


Beginnings and Blockades

by LadyMerlin



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Coming Out, Established Relationship, F/M, Family Drama, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Racism, Tarsus IV, WIP, Xenophobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2009-12-29
Updated: 2014-07-30
Packaged: 2018-02-11 01:34:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 29,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2048232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMerlin/pseuds/LadyMerlin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Winona Kirk can't deny she's been nothing short of a tragedy, as a parent. So she reaches out to mend her broken bridges with Captain James T. Kirk, Federation Hero, and her younger son. But some things just can't be fixed, and the road to hell has always been paved with good intentions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was started in 2009, shortly after the release of the first Trek movie. It has been plotted out but remains, as of the moment, a work in progress. 
> 
> This fic was intended to be a one shot, consisting only of the first chapter, but was expanded to become much longer on an ad lib basis. It has not been edited since the first posting, five years ago. Con crit is still appreciated.

He had come back four times. To the house where he grew up, and to her, she thought. Since that last time when he'd slammed in at three in the morning, picked up some used clothes from the machine, his wallet and his fathers' jacket, and walked right out. She had watched from the second floor window, the yellow light no doubt catching his attention as he looked up. His face had been expressionless, even as he caught her eye, and even though he knew he wouldn't be seeing her again for a long time, he didn't wave goodbye.

To be perfectly fair, neither did she. She couldn't. They didn't work that way (they didn't work at all, really). Breaching that barrier was difficult for both of them, had always been difficult. He looked too much like his father, reminded her too much of her much-happier past, and the future she had been dreaming of her whole life. And she blamed that innocent child for that loss when he was too little to know better, when she should have known better. He grew up thinking that she didn't love him and that he'd committed some sin worthy of her eternal hatred, and she couldn't imagine that.

She'd grown up knowing she would meet someone like him (George), known what her wedding would look like, and known what every moment with him would feel like. It just had to be that way because it couldn't be any other way--it would just hurt too much if it didn't happen. As a result of her impossible standards, she hadn't even met him when all her friends were married and having kids. 

She was hoping she'd meet him at a ball, and he'd be a prince (not necessarily nobility, but family wealth was required) wearing a tuxedo with a rose tucked in his pocket, and he'd be so perfect. He'd be tall, dark and handsome, and would sweep her off her feet, and it would be love at first sight and it would be mutual, and by the time the moon set they'd have pledged themselves to each other and would be lying sated after a night of sweet love-making in the rose-garden outside. That bit had been added when she turned fourteen and had seen ancient holo-vids of Titanic. 

Well. At least she met him at a party.

It was, however, at her own engagement party, and as anyone could imagine that didn't work out well with anyone. He wasn't super-tall, and he wasn't dark, though he was kinda cute. He had pretty blue eyes, and reminded her of Pierce Brosnan, that really old movie star, always kissing the back of her hand and complimenting her eyes. The sweet love-making came much, much after, and eventually she was okay with that.

The eloping and the secret marriage were small concessions when she was with someone she loved so much, so completely. She'd planned that wedding her whole life, but when she looked into his eyes and he told her he loved her, it all went out the damned window, as long as she was with him. Her parents publicly disowned her, and she'd expected it. She was a society girl, it was improper to elope. They had to defend their honour, and she didn't really mind. She even understood. George's parents were dead. At least she still had hers.

But she remembered, sitting on a cushion on the floor by a window looking out at the forget-me-not-blue sky outside, she'd dreamed of a better brighter future, if not a giant fancy wedding (in the spring, in New York).

She'd wanted to move to the country and hence the house in a small town, Riverside, Iowa. She'd paint the kitchen cabinets yellow and he'd be at work in the cafe beside their house, and they'd grow desert roses in their garden, where their child would grow up loved and free of the burdens of the world. He'd build snowmen and have hot chocolate on Christmas morning, and they'd have wonderful birthday parties for him, and they'd give him everything a child could want. She swore she would be a good mother; how could she not be? She'd been planning this her whole life.

But plans don't always work out, and then instead of the bright, happy future she'd envisioned, she ended up hosting a funeral, then sitting on a dusty floor as the grey sky rumbled and burly leering men repossessed everything in her home, her childrens' home.

If George were alive he wouldn't let those men look at her like that, he'd defend her. But he wasn't alive, not anymore. If she could have gone with George, she would have. But she had been in labour, and taking that child with her would have been murder. What would have happened to Sammy? Back home? He wouldn't even have grandparents to live with, he'd be alone.

So she lived, even though living was a gross exaggeration, really. Sammy was untainted. He had her natural brown hair, and her fathers' green eyes. He was shy and loved to read and reminded her of the man she had been about to marry. Jim, though, was different. He had his fathers' pretty blue eyes, and his summery blonde hair, and even his dramatic flair and sunny disposition. He was the embodiment of George, and maybe more because he was so smart.

And because he was so smart he figured it out early on that there was something wrong with him. From the way she treated him, anyway. She really couldn't help it. Every-time she looked at him George's last words came echoing in her head, that he loved her, and she would practically break down. She’d have to stop everything she was doing and put her head between her knees and call for her smelling salts because she felt like fainting, or throwing up, or both.

When she looked up, Jim was gone.

She got married a second time to a mechanic named Frank. She never changed her last name and he knew it was because she didn’t love him as much as she’d loved George. It didn’t take a genius, so that was good because Frank was nothing like George. He never had the same spark or the same degree of warmth (she didn’t think she did either). But she needed a companion, and so did he (his wife had died). It was in effect a union of convenience and it helped that Starfleets’ pension for widows was pretty nice and she’d agreed to share it.

But he had been in the military and believed in discipline. Jim was a free thinker, creative and energetic. Oil, meet water. They clashed time and time again, and she always looked away when Frank looked at her son thoughtfully. He wouldn’t, she knew. He wouldn’t dare. She didn’t—she wasn’t as attached to Jim as Sam, but he wouldn’t dare presume she would be okay with that. She wouldn’t hurt a child, even if it was the one who had ruined her life. Or at least, that was her logic then. Jim had ruined her life because she would have died if not for him, and death would have been better than this… this existence.

Frank beat Jim with a leather belt. She didn’t stop him because whatever it was he probably deserved it. He tried to behave, tried to follow orders, she could see it. But he resisted any rule that didn’t have meaning, because he insisted rules were there for a reason. When he asked, demanded an explanation, Frank took it personally as an insult and beat him up. In hindsight it didn’t take much to fracture Franks’ delicate control and she should have told the boy. But she didn’t. And he probably needed a father figure as it was.

It didn’t take long before he started rebelling. She was expecting it. He was the type, and he had a cause, so. But what took her by surprise was the _force_ of his anger. He got destructive. She would even have understood if he destroyed stuff (she locked up George’s old belongings) but he became somewhat self-destructive as well.

Everyone had been shocked when he drove that car off the cliff, because no one had seen such a degree of vandalism in that small town in the middle of nowhere, but she knew there was more to it. She knew him because she was his mother, whether she liked it or not. She knew he had an angry streak, and she knew he’d been thinking of going with the car. He kept it quiet and told only his brother one night, when she’d heard Sam scream to never do something like that ever again. But she had left it alone.

But that one day. He’d screamed that he hated her, like young boys do. And unable to stop herself, she’d screamed that she hated him too. The kitchen had frozen in silence, and he’d looked at her with a look of satisfaction, like he’d known it was coming.

She packed his bags and sent him to live with her sister on Tarsus IV.

She was off planet for the next few months, with no word from either Frank or Jim, and it was probably better that way. She didn’t want to know. She went home, went to the house for a brief shore-leave and could smell alcohol on the doorstep and could hear female laughter from inside. She turned away and booked a hotel room, and limited his access to her bank-account. Her savings were being spent on booze and sex, and while she didn’t hold it against him, she had to be selfish too.

When she got back after the project on Evanus X was over, the garden was not weeded and Sam was living with the neighbour who gave her an incredulous look when she walked up their driveway. She didn’t really care and smirked as she took her son back, and never once thought where Jim was, and what he was doing.

A year and six months (to the day) later, she got a call from a man, saying that Jim was on Earth and could she come pick him up. She got herself a bottle of Saurian brandy from an underground dealer and drank herself into oblivion. She ignored the messages on the phone from the guy at the hospital and one day, a white van dropped off a gaunt, unrecognizable boy at her gate. She didn’t go out to meet him. To be fair she didn’t know what had happened on Tarsus, she just thought her sister had given up and sent him back. She didn’t know until a family showed up at her door, asking for Jim.

They were laughing and smiling, even though their boy had a similar gauntness to his figure. It was a man and a woman and their young son and their dog, and they reminded her of what _they_ were supposed to be. She demanded to know who they were and they paused, stunned. “We snail-mailed Jim, we told him we were coming.”

She shrugged. _I musta burnt it. Jim doesn’t live here anymore._ And it was the truth. He was sixteen. Old enough to find somewhere else to be. She didn’t want him around there. And they had _cried_. They told her Jim (her Jim?) had saved their kids’ life on Tarsus. She’d asked what the fuck happened on Tarsus, and they’d turned disbelievingly stony-eyed and had walked away.

She’d gone online and researched a bit about Tarsus and had found an ad that the family had put up, looking for Jim. She had rolled her eyes. Must be some kind of mistake.

She’d lived her life until the Narada incident when all of a sudden reporters were leaving hundreds of messages on her phone, begging for interviews. She only had to turn on the holo to see the ever-famous video of Jim Kirk leading his triumphant crew off the shuttle, and as everyone fell into the loving embraces of their family and some guy turned to ask Jim for a statement, they realised he was gone, and that there was no loving family waiting for him with open arms.

An Admiral Christopher Pike (her husbands’ best friend, but that didn’t matter anymore. She had no ties to Starfleet) called but she made it very clear that she had no interest in Jim’s life, and he had turned stormy and cut the call before she could. She had not interest whether he was a hero or not. Fuck him for spoiling the memory of George, for overshadowing his sacrifice.

She didn’t even have a job anymore, and Sam had gone off to some fancy-ass university on Deneva on scholarship, and her only pleasures in life were good wine and silence, and the years flew by without her noticing.

Then Pike had called and had told her that he was sorry but George would have wanted this. And she didn’t know what the fuck he was talking about but pretended it hadn’t happened the moment Pike put down the phone. Then she found her credit card had been frozen, and the winery and liquor store had been told she was not allowed inside, in the name of the law.

Some science research company had called her to tell her that her interview was the following day, and she almost told them to fuck off. But then she knew she’d been given an out, and she’d take it. So she had a small dead-end job in some company, nine-to-five. But it didn’t matter. It felt good to be earning again. It felt… powerful. She was beginning to live again and it was her first Christmas since.

Outside snow blanketed the world and covered all the pockmarks time had left on its face and she could imagine being young again. She felt like going outside and making snow-angels and pretending nothing bad had ever happened. But the neighbours would be scandalized. She almost didn’t care. But she had something to do, something more important. If she could summon the courage to do it.

Sitting there in front of the phone it felt like a summary of her whole fucking life.

She’d almost had happiness, and it had been taken away. She’d almost got her son back. Almost. He’d come over four times and stood outside her door, not knocking or ringing the bell. He’d stood there for half-an-hour before getting back in his car or bus or on his bike and driving away. She’d almost called him six times before this.

She’d always hung up before he answered, not sure what she’d say. How would one talk to their kid if they hadn’t spoken in god-knows-how-many years.

She suddenly remembered this one lady whom she’d met in the supermarket one day. Well, she hadn’t met her, per se, but had bumped into her and apparently it was still in fashion to superglue yourself to random people in the name of polite conversation. She’d gone on and on and on about Jim Kirk and how he was so sexy and so awesome and so fucking perfect, she’d got a migraine on the spot.

She’d finally lost it somewhere in the cereals aisle, buying some bran stuff she’d probably never eat. She’d spun around and almost screamed, “I’m his mother, and take my word for it, he isn’t all you think he is. He’s a fuck-up, woman. So are you. Even his mother can’t love him.” She’d turned and walked away, or would have if the woman hadn’t said something that had stayed with her since.

“In a world full of darkness and candles your son is a star, painting the fear and sorrow around him in glory and warmth. Bask in it while you can, you closest to him on Earth, because one day you might not be able to and there is no greater pain than regret.” She’d walked away from the woman, and away from her words but she hadn’t been able to sleep that night. In all fairness, she had been drunk and probably shouldn’t have made a scene in a public place. Only now did she realise that her being drunk didn’t make it fair.

But all that was over and gone and now she sat in front of her phone with a decision to make.

She knew she was making a bigger deal of this than it actually was. Or a smaller one. The great wall of untouchable between them in her head was no more than a pile of pebbles, super-enforced with fear and anger and history. And all she had to do was cross it without being pathetic. It was probably harder for Jim anyway. He had become an orphan when only his father had died and he had never complained.

And it was New Year. It was supposed to have new beginnings, not old blockades. She knew that in the dinner which had invited all family members of Starfleet officers, Jim would sit with his friends and pretend that he had no family, that he was an orphan and he wouldn’t even be lying.

And even though she was telling herself that Jim deserved whatever family he could get this far in his life, she knew there was a bigger element of needing to assure herself that she could still have a part in his life, or even if not that she hadn’t screwed him up too much. Because in truth, he _was_ a hero, and had probably risked his neck for people countless times in his career. And she only wondered what he’d been like, how amazing he could have been if she hadn’t messed him up.

So she took a deep breath and dialed his number (already memorized) and waited. The words would change her life and paint her world.

“Hello?”


	2. Chapter 2

Jim was sitting in the warm room, laughing at Bones who looked utterly befuddled by something Spock had just said. It was New Year’s eve and they were having a Chanukah/Christmas/Kwanza/New-Years’ celebration combined because Starfleet had disallowed them from taking any time off to celebrate anything previously, on account of there being ‘more important, official’ occasions to grace. His crew had brushed it off, knowing he’d tried his best to get them leave, and sometimes Starfleet just sucked.

But now none of those thoughts were going through his mind. Instead, only slightly buzzed, his mind was full of happiness at having found this amazing new family with whom no bad memories tainted his joy. He wasn’t religious, but he’d tried his best to get specialties for each festival, and was pleased he had found latkes just before the party started, so they were still hot.

Scotty was telling a really awful story about this Rigellan girl he’d dated once, and her apparent allergy to cranberries when his phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and seriously considered ignoring it, because to answer he’d miss this. Not just the story, but this time with his crew. But the number was unregistered, and not listed in his directory and knowing he’d have this crew for as long as he could keep them, he picked up.

“Hello?”

He didn’t recognise the voice. “Yeah, hi. Who’s this?” Scotty had paused, and everyone had turned to watch him. He rolled his eyes, jokingly.

“Hey, Jim.” She paused. The voice sounded, and Jim hated to say this, it sounded pretty. But not in the young-thing-pretty. A dignified, mid-fifties pretty.

“Sorry, do I know you?” Jim continued, politely.

“Yeah. Jim. It’s me. Uh. Winona.” She wasn’t sure how to introduce herself. Hi, I’m the woman who was absent from your childhood? Or, Hi, I’m your god-awful mother? So she decided to stick with her first name. It wouldn’t put him under pressure, she hoped. She wouldn’t want a mother like her either.

Jim froze. Something on his face changed and everyone on the table could see it. Bones could see something like fear cross his face, even though Jim would die before admitting it. He waved his hand at them, as if telling them to continue, and walked out of the room filled with voices hissing and asking who it was. There was a moment of silence. No one felt like laughing anymore, even when Scotty described in detail his Rigellan Ex-Girlfriends’ hives upon contact with cranberries. Jim shouldn’t have to be so serious on New Years’ Day. Shouldn’t have to face serious issues. Who called like that? (Bones demanded loudly)

It probably wasn’t Starfleet, because even though they sucked they had standards. Apart from that, no one had any guesses. No one really knew about Jims’ private life, not even Bones who had known him the longest. They didn’t think he had any living family, but Spock knew (and no one else) that Jim had a brother who worked on Deneva for the CDC.

But Deneva was ahead of them. It would be two in the morning, there. Who could it be?

Jim stood outside in the cold, left hand shoved in his coat pocket, breath frosting on his nose. He hadn’t bothered pulling on all his protective clothing, and it was freaking cold.

“Ma?” he whispered, quietly as if his voice had given way.

She hadn’t expected him to use that title, but she recognised the way he said it. It was just a title, and held no link to a term of endearment used for the woman who raised you. “Yeah. It’s me.”

There was silence as they waited for the other to speak.

“Listen, Jim.” She paused as they heard Bones yelling for Jim to get his ass back inside before he caught his death. “Looks like you’ve got a real family, now.”

He nodded then remembering she couldn’t see him and replied, “Yeah.” He wouldn’t deny that it was the first time.

“I don’t know how to say this, because everything I say seems so insignificant and immature, but I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.” Her voice too, quivered with emotion. Jim felt a flush of viciousness, and could imagine himself demanding to know what she was sorry for. Making her admit, to see if she really knew what he’d been through. But he thought of Bones and Spock and his gang and knew (because he was a bit more mature now, thanks very much) that it wasn’t worth it. It wasn’t worth remembering the past if it only caused him pain. It wasn’t worth bringing back that anger if it did no good. That bridge was burnt and she could stand there waiting for as long as she wanted, but he wouldn’t care. He was happy now.

So he just said, “Yeah.” His fingers were trembling on the phone, and he couldn’t tell if it was the cold or something else.

“Jim, please don’t. Please don’t shut me out.” She sounded like she was begging.

“Ma,” and his voice failed him. “Look. I can’t do this right now.”

“Then when, Jim?” she asked, and suddenly Jim snapped.

“Look, I don’t know. I’ve been trying to get over it—no, I’ve been trying to _forget_ it, for my whole _life_ , Ma. I can’t sleep at night, because of what happened on Tarsus, and you can’t expect me to forgive that so easily, because _you_ sent me there even though there were rumors of stuff going wrong.”

“You _know_ I was on the last shuttle there. You didn’t care. You never cared, even when the problem was closer to home, like Frank. You always pretended what he did was for my benefit, but you—you don’t know what he did to me. If that was for my benefit, I have no reason to live my life anymore because I _stop_ people from doing that,” it was like a dam had broken and words were pouring out uncensored, and filled with emotion.

“You can’t expect me to just pretend nothing happened, because stuff happened, and I don’t know how it changed me. I might even have been normal if—if—” but he found he couldn’t choke the words out. “It’s not okay. The bridge is burnt and I don’t know if I can fix it. I’m not a child anymore, Ma. I can’t forgive something so easily when it hurt me so much.”

“For so long, my whole childhood, I wondered why you hated me and what I’d done. Everything I did, every second of every day was in hope of finding something that would make you forgive me. I didn’t care what happened to me, in the hope that you’d forgive me for whatever I’d done. Can you imagine what it felt like when I found that my only sin was to have been born? I have to take care of me, now.”

He didn’t realise but his volume had been increasing and he was almost shouting at the phone by the time he finished. He hadn’t even noticed the door creak open as Spock came to stand beside him. Spock slid his hand into Jims’ and squeezed it, and for the half-Vulcan it was as good as giving a full hug. Spock’s free hand cupped his face, sending warmth into his bones, and his thumb stroked his numb lips, sending painful feeling into them again.

The phone was silent.

“I know, Jim. I know. I’m sorry that I made—that I screwed up, honey, but I’m just trying to say that I—I’m growing old, Jim, and before I die I need to have your forgiveness because it’s the only way I can die peacefully.”

Jim closed his eyes and took a deep breath, gripping Spock’s hand even tighter in an attempt to control himself.

“Jim,” Spock said quietly, and unlike anyone else Jim knew would, he didn’t offer advice or consolation or comfort because it wouldn’t take away the pain. It wouldn’t make things alright. But for now Spock was there and it helped him breathe.

“Jim, is someone there with you? Jim are we on speakerphone?” Winona demanded, suddenly tense.

Jim rolled his eyes, bolstered by Spocks’ very presence. “Ma, Spock’s with me. No, we’re not on speakerphone.”

“What’s he doing there?” she demanded, wondering why he was working on New Years’ Day. “Don’t you have holidays?”

“Ma, I was having a party when you called.” Hosting it, actually. Jim wondered how his guests were doing. Spock sent him a thought assuring him they were fine, if a bit worried.

“So why is your first officer there?” her voice was still firm and demanding, and for a moment Jim felt like cutting the connection because no matter how he dealt with her, he was still angry and felt even more when she presumed to know anything about him and his life. “Is it a work party?”

“Ma, Spock’s my best friend.” _And more_ , but he wouldn’t tell her that yet. He didn’t know if he could trust her. “Then Bones, my CMO, then Uhura the Head Comm. Officer, Sulu the Pilot, Chekhov the Navigator, Scotty the Engineering Head these are my friends. We stick and we’re lucky we even got a chance to have a private party.” _Which you are_ ruining,Jim thought uncharitably.

She made a sound which Jim supposed was a snort, before saying, “So it’s a work party.”

“Ma, don’t you dare presume anything about my life. They’re my family, and I’m celebrating with them.” He was really mad. How could she be so patronizing? “They’re my _only_ family,” he said, venomous, hoping she’d get the point.

She paused. “Of course. I’m sorry it’s just that Captain Robau was never as close to anyone on his crew on the Kelvin, even though he’d known your father four years.”

Jim felt like rolling his eyes. Of course they wouldn’t be close, it was against the rules. Starfleet expected crews to be businesslike and work-only, especially on their flagship, but he ran his ship a different way. If they were going to be together for five years, and perhaps another five, they would have to bond. They would have to be friends so they would fight harder when needed, and he said as much. _He wasn’t his father_ was left unsaid.

There was another silence and Spock made an uncharacteristic gesture by putting his arm around Jim’s waist and resting his chin on Jims shoulder, shooting Jim’s nerves with warmth.

“Jim, I get that I don’t know you much. Or at all. But I want to. I want to connect, and they do say better late than never, right?”

The ball was in his court now, and he would have to make a choice.

_Jim, never limit your options, t’hy’la. Never cut the final thread._

And even though he knew he was perfectly entitled to shutting her down, he wouldn’t, even though the stupid phrase she used had nothing to do with it. He’d be fine without her. It was just—he wanted to know what he’d missed as a child, and he’d never admit it. “Yeah, yeah okay.”

“Great, Jimmy—”

And without being able to help it he cut her off. “Don’t call me that.”

“Uh, okay. Jim, then. Great, I’ll call soon, okay?”

Jim _hmm_ noncommittally because to be honest he felt like ignoring any future calls from her, but he wouldn’t. He owed it to himself.

Tip-toeing he kissed Spock firmly on the lips and they walked into the house and the warmth. The small group cheered and Jim rolled his eyes before asking, “So what’d we miss?”

“Well, the biggest news is that I think ‘Karu and Pav are making out in your kitchen,” Bones said and it was obvious they were waiting for his reaction.

“What, that’s it?” Jim asked, grinning. Spock’s eyebrow had raised only slightly.

“You mean you knew?” Nyota asked, incredulous.

“Well, yeah,” Jim said laughing. “A blind man could have seen it. But then again,” he said gesturing expansively at the room. “I’m pretty sure I don’t have a crew full of blind people, so it must be just good old me!” He mock-bowed and ducked as Bones threw a roll at him, laughing.

“Waste, Doctor, is illogical.”

“So help me god, Spock, one more time I hear that word and I’ll—”

“You’ll what,” Nyota asked jokingly, “risk the wrath of Jim Kirk?”

Jim grinned and Bones mock-fainted and without further ado, they were back to their jovial mood.

On the other side of the line, Winona sat in her dark room and wondered if she’d done the right thing, and how Jim would react if she visited him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place in two separate parts; the first is almost a recap of the previous chapter, with different POVs. The second part of the chapter, where the story progresses, has been modified because some how, I had (in extraordinarily bad judgement) _written down_ Scotty's accent. It was horrible, and I've fixed it. Apologies to anyone on whom it was inflicted in the past.

“Hello?” she asked into the receiver, cautiously. She wasn’t sure it was the right number, wasn’t sure if it was a good time, wasn’t sure if he’d recognise her, wasn’t sure if he would talk to her once he found out. She wasn’t sure of more things than she could count, and sure of only one; she wanted this. She needed to make contact, if only to save her soul when she died.

There was chatter in the background as if he was at a party or something.

“Yeah, hi. Who’s this?” His voice was polite and calm, the voice one uses when speaking to a stranger. Which was what, she effectively was.

“Hey, Jim.” She really didn’t know what to say. She’d planned it all out—she’d convince him that he still needed a mother (well, not really, he was twenty-four, but…) and that she did love him and she wanted to know him. But she didn’t know exactly _how_ she’d convince him. She hadn’t banked on him responding, come to think of it. She’d plotted out a monologue.

“Sorry, do I know you?” He was still unfailingly polite and she wondered where he’d learnt it. She was supposed to have been the one who taught him all that, but she didn’t remember doing any such thing.

“Yeah. Jim. It’s me. Uh. Winona.” She hated sounding so unconfident. She had wanted to impress him, you know, first impressions and stuff. Instead it was coming out like some kind of joke, like she wasn’t even sure of her own damn name.

She could _feel_ him freeze. There was a sudden silence on the other side, all background chatter stopped. She wondered what had happened, and only began feeling uncomfortable when he replied, “Ma?”

She could hear the wind howling around him, like he’d moved outside the house into the unforgiving San Francisco winter. He was quiet, and soft, but not friendly anymore. Only then did she register his usage of her title. She probably didn’t deserve it, and he knew it, using it only as a title with no endearment.

“Yeah. It’s me.” And silence. They both didn’t know what to say and she felt worse because she’d called him.

“Listen, Jim.” She heard a man yelling to get his ass back inside before he froze to death, and felt a pang of sorrow. She should have been the one saying that. She didn’t remember once showing concern for Jim’s wellbeing when he was young, and now someone else had taken her place. “Looks like you’ve got a real family, now.”

He didn’t deny it. “Yeah.” The word was bitter, like the cold, and angry.

“I don’t know how to say this, because everything I say seems so insignificant and immature, but I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.” She knew it sounded so cliché, even when she’d said it in her head, but she had to say it. She had to try.

He was still silent for a long time, before saying, “yeah.”

“Jim, please don’t. Please don’t shut me out.” She was begging and Jim almost gave in because no matter what Nyota said he couldn’t imagine being to one to hurt someone when it was in his hands, least of all his mother.

But even though she knew this, she also knew that it wasn’t fair. She had let her son be hurt, and had even hurt him herself. She shouldn’t even ask for mercy, let alone expect it.

“Ma, look. I can’t do this right now.” His voice cracked as if dry or as if he was crying.

She suddenly felt a surge of rage; god damn the universe for taking away her time with this boy. She wanted it back, all of it, and if not, as much as she could get. Why wasn’t he agreeing? “Then when, Jim?” she demanded, trying to convince him that there was no time like the present. Surely nothing could be more important, right?

He seemed to get angry, very fast.

“Look, I don’t know. I’ve been trying to get over it—no, I’ve been trying to _forget_ it, for my whole _life_ , Ma. I can’t sleep at night, because of what happened on Tarsus, and you can’t expect me to forgive that so easily, because _you_ sent me there even though there were rumors of stuff going wrong.” She let him go on, knowing that she wasn’t indulging him but finding out what she had actually done. Finding out the damage inflicted from the point of view of the victim.

“You _know_ I was on the last shuttle there. You didn’t care. You never cared, even when the problem was closer to home, like Frank. You always pretended what he did was for my benefit, but you—you don’t know what he did to me. If that was for my benefit, I have no reason to live my life anymore because I _stop_ people from doing that,” and the words hurt. It wasn’t that they weren’t true, it was that they were _perfectly_ true, and that he knew so much, and it was so clear she couldn’t imagine why she herself hadn’t seen it back then.

“You can’t expect me to just pretend nothing happened, because stuff happened, and I don’t know how it changed me. I might even have been normal if—if—” but he found he couldn’t choke the words out. “It’s not okay. The bridge is burnt and I don’t know if I can fix it. I’m not a child anymore, Ma. I can’t forgive something so easily when it hurt me so much.”

“For so long, my whole childhood, I wondered why you hated me and what I’d done. Everything I did, every second of every day was in hope of finding something that would make you forgive me. I didn’t care what happened to me, in the hope that you’d forgive me for whatever I’d done. Can you imagine what it felt like when I found that my only sin was to have been born? I have to take care of me, now.”

He was almost yelling at her, and she was almost crying. It was understandable, expectable, even. She _needed_ him to be mad at her, so she could feel that some bit of her debt had been paid. But he sighed and soothed himself, and she hated that she hadn’t had the same control as he did.

Still silence, except for the gentle _rush_ of his breath.

“I know, Jim. I know. I’m sorry that I made—that I screwed up, honey, but I’m just trying to say that I—I’m growing old, Jim, and before I die I need to have your forgiveness because it’s the only way I can die peacefully.”

She’d admit it. She’d even admit her selfish reasons, just please let him forgive her, or at least try. She was doing her best, and she didn’t know what else she could do to fix her son.

Suddenly she heard the whisper of his name on the other side. It was a male voice, different from the one who had yelled at him to go inside. Smoother, and deeper. “Jim,” and she was filled with fear. Had this entire conversation been overheard? Would he show it to other people? Would he have her jailed? What would he do? Why was he doing this?

“Jim, is someone there with you? Jim are we on speakerphone?” She had to ask, terrified. He sighed.

“Ma, Spock’s with me. No, we’re not on speakerphone.” He sounded exasperated. He hated that she sounded so condescending even when she was asking for forgiveness.

 _Maybe she knows no other way_ , Spock’s mind reminded him. He nodded unconsciously.

“What’s he doing there? Don’t you have holidays?” Sometimes, she thought, Starfleet could be so horrible. She had worked with them for a while, until after George die—until after Jim was born. Contrary to popular belief, starships weren’t friendly places to be. It was like an office, just that it flew at light speed. Politics and backstabbing, she’d hated it. She’s felt like a new-born in a pit of vipers. And on top of that, she was stuck with them for five years when she got pregnant, and it had been so horrible.

She could imagine, her poor boy being bullied into office parties by the high-ups in the fleet.

“Ma, I was having a party when you called.” His voice was patient, as if dealing with a child. She couldn’t understand why he wasn’t more outraged.

“So why is your first officer there? Is it a work party?” she wanted him to understand that he could come home during the holidays, and spend some time with her. He didn’t _have_ to stay there. First he had to admit it; he was working himself to death, she just _knew_ it.

“Ma, Spock’s my best friend. Then Bones, my CMO, then Uhura the Head Comm. Officer, Sulu the Pilot, Chekhov the Navigator, Scotty the Engineering Head these are my friends. We stick and we’re lucky we even got a chance to have a private party.” He sounded bitter, and she took that as a sign that he wanted a break but wasn’t getting one. She made a triumphant sound.

“So it’s a work party.”

“Ma, don’t you dare presume anything about my life. They’re my family, and I’m celebrating with them. They’re my _only_ family,” he spat, sounding pissed. It just occurred that he was pissed at _her_ , not at them. Maybe he was right, and she didn’t know anything anymore. Maybe they were close, really that close. She sighed. She was out of touch.

“Of course. I’m sorry it’s just that Captain Robau was never as close to anyone on his crew on the Kelvin, even though he’d known your father four years.” She tried to explain to him her reasoning, and her understanding of ‘fleet rules. It was the first time she’d ever spoken to him about his father. She couldn’t remember anything like it in the past.

He sighed, a resigned sort of sound.

“Jim, I get that I don’t know you much. Or at all. But I want to. I want to connect, and they do say better late than never, right?” she hoped it was working. She hoped he’d listen to her, as his mother and stuff. Maybe the conventional wisdom would have an impact? And he’d see that it was right to fix things?

“Yeah, yeah okay.” His tone told her he wasn’t impressed, but for some reason was still agreeing to this thing. She couldn’t care less about the why. She was just glad he’d agreed.

She felt chipper as she said, “Great, Jimmy,” but he cut her off.

“Don’t call me that.” He sounded helplessly angry, tired. She didn’t know why. Maybe it made him feel like a child again. She hoped he understood he’d always be her son.

“Uh, okay. Jim, then. Great, I’ll call soon, okay?”

He _hmm_ ed and she left it at that. She couldn’t expect anymore, really.

So the phone clicked off and she sat down, filled to the brim with a sense of satisfaction at having made progress. She hoped it would all go well, and hoped it was the right move, and picked up the phone to book shuttle tickets to San Francisco.

* * *

Two days later…

Winona wasn’t fool enough to assume Jim would let her live with him. They were practically strangers, and he was kind hearted, but not stupid. So she’d booked a room for herself in a hotel just outside the academy. She’d arrived a day prior, and was getting used to the area and telling herself she wasn’t scared of meeting him.

In hindsight she should have called, but it was too late for that, and he’d most likely have said no.

So she was sitting in a bar on the premises which looked to be the most lively place in the whole campus. She’d been lucky, finding herself a small booth in the corner before it got too crowded. Now the whole room was packed, people standing and chatting, cradling drinks. She wondered if it was like this everyday, before remembering it was Friday night. She’d spent every Friday night like this with George in the academy, in a club which used to stand on the very floor she stood on now.

She didn’t notice him enter, but a man came and standing beside her asked, “Is the seat taken?”

He was a good bit younger than her, in his late-thirties while she was in her late forties, fifty next year. But he was handsome in a roguish way and once people reached a certain age, good conversation was hard to find. She shook her head with a smile, knowing she probably still had it. She hadn’t allowed the alcohol to settle on her hips and had taken care of her teeth. She definitely still had it.

He grinned and sat down, taking off his hat. He was already nursing a mint julep, and she’d just noticed but he spoke with a slight southern drawl. He sipped his drink, put down his glass and held out his hand. Okay, so he wasn’t interested in sex. That was fine by her.

She took the proffered hand and said, not sure if she’d be heard over the din, “My name’s Winona.”

“Name’s Leonard, but you can call me Bones. Friend of mine re-christened me and it’s stuck like a cat on fly-paper.” He was still smiling good-naturedly. _Bones_ … reminded her of something, but she couldn’t place her finger on it.

“Nice to meet you. What are you doing out here this Friday night?” she asked, hoping he wouldn’t be insulted because she didn’t mean to.

“I’m a doctor for the ‘fleet. I enjoy my drinks and can’t normally drink because I’m surrounded by idiots who can’t keep themselves out of trouble. So I locked them up and I’m having myself a good drink before I ship out. And what finds a fine lady like yourself in this place?”

“My son’s—” She was about to say ‘Jim Kirk’, but wasn’t entirely sure if she should, because she knew he’d be neck-deep in politics so… “he’s in the fleet and I’m here to visit him.”

“And he left you here, alone?” the doctor looked outraged.

“Well, he doesn’t know I’m here. I haven’t told him. Me’n’my son aren’t on good terms. I wasn’t a really good mother,” she confessed, hoping she could just talk to him. He seemed very friendly, and in her experience it was easiest to spill your soul to strangers.

He nodded as if he understood. “Me—I got divorced when my little girl was just two and a half. She’s eight now, and her mother won’t let me see her much. Says it’s not good for her to be exposed to a person who’s not constantly around. I know how you feel.”

“Well, that wasn’t in your hands. I know it probably doesn’t help but it’s not your fault. It was between you and your wife, and she made that into something between you and your girl. For me…” She sighed. Maybe she shouldn’t do this. He seemed to sense it.

“Miss, I don’t know you and you don’t know me, but from one parent to another, what could you possibly have done that you can’t forgive yourself for? I’m sure your kid’s forgiven you by now.”

She shook her head. “He’ll never forgive me, because what I did was horrible. You see, my husband died on the U.S.S. _Kelvin,_ ” and the mans’ eyes narrowed, “and my son looked too much like him. I couldn’t stand to look at him, couldn’t bear him as the reminder of what I’d lost. I never realised that I’d been given something wonderful at the same time he’d died. I always thought I’d have exchanged his life for my husbands’.” She was careful to never use their names, but knew it was bound to slip out and she hoped he didn’t notice after his second julep.

“Then I sent him to Tarsus.”

“Holy fuck.”

“Yeah, exactly.”

“Wait, wait. Your husband died on the _Kelvin_ , right? And you gave birth to a son on the spot? _And_ you sent him to Tarsus? You’re Jims’ mother, aren’t you?” She froze. He knew Jim by his first name. He was close to Jim. Fuck.

He seemed to know what she was thinking. He pushed away his half-empty glass and took a deep breath. “My name is Leonard McCoy, and I’m Jim’s CMO and best friend, ma’am.” He paused. “Why have you come here?” He made it sound like she was invading some foreign territory that was off limits. Gone was the handsome young man who had only just been flirting with her; this was a Starfleet officer, and more than that this was Jim’s best friend.

She looked at the table and fiddled with her hands before answering. “I need to make up with him. I need him to know that I do love him, do love him now.” She tried to sound as if she wasn’t convincing herself along with him, and probably failed. He gave her a scrutinizing look.

“So you didn’t love him then.”

It was a little too close for comfort, and despite knowing that she should probably be nice to this guy if she wanted to get to Jim, she snapped, “That’s out of line, mister,” in her best professional bitch voice.

He smirked. “Lady, you don’t want to even _contemplate_ how bitchy I can get. That’s not gonna work. I know you called, even though Jim didn’t tell me. Anything to do with you turns him so off, it’s not funny. So you called him to make nice, and decided to pop by to scare the shit out of him?” Judging by the look on her face, he’d hit the nail on the head.

“I don’t think so. I know you haven’t told him ‘cuz Jim hasn’t told me. I don’t intend for you to ruin the rest of his hard-earned leave, because I care for him and love him like a brother.”

She tried to process in which universe some _random_ friend of Jims’ could tell her what the fuck to do and what to not do. She felt her blood-pressure rising as she stood up.

“I don’t give a fuck who _you_ are, Doctor, but I _will_ have you arrested if you continue harassing me this way.” Silence fell around them, her words echoing slightly. She almost smirked, but that would have given her away.

The bar-tender made his way through the crowd, a plump-ish man with high coloring, who looked to be only five years younger than her. “What’s going on here?” he asked, Scottish accent thick as tar. The doctor smirked.

“Hey, Scott. Guess who _this_ is.”

“Who?” he asked, studying Winona’s face from beside the Doctor. He was absently polishing a glass. People around them were still watching.

“This here, is Winona _Kirk_.” McCoy was still smirking, and she knew he’d had the ace all along.

He stopped polishing the glass. “Well, I’ll be blown.” He suddenly spun around and demanded from the silently watching crowd, “Well, don't you people have anything better to do?” They went back to their business, knowing Scott and how he’d handle stuff. He was, after all, in charge. “Lass, pretty as you may be, I don't accept people like you in here. I don't know why you're here, but Jimmy’s my CO, and ah love him like a brother. He’s never told me what you did, but I’m smart enough to put two and two together. Ah’ll leave Bonesey here to deal with you. Doc, I'll see you tonight?”

McCoy nodded, smiling. “So now, you see, ma’am. Jim has far too many people who love him to be weak to that kind of attack. And I’m no idiot either. He’s better off without you, and I’m sorry,” and for a bit he genuinely looked sorry, “I know you would have gained something by making peace with him, but can you imagine how that’d destroy him? A living reminder of his childhood? It’s taken a whole damn crew plus others to convince the man that he is worth the money spent on his clothes, he has such serious confidence issues, I’m sure you can guess,” and she could. “I’m not going to let that resurface. And don’t try going behind my back either. I’m ready for that.”

She just glared at him, lost for words. She slammed her glass down and walked out the door, and McCoy started making his way over to Jim's place to let him know they might have a problem.


	4. Chapter 4

Winona was many things, but she was not a fool. She knew whom she could approach for help, and people to whom approach would be a bad idea. She knew Pike. He’d been George’s best friend. He’d been George’s best man, for gods sake. And he would help her. He was a hard-ass admiral, fine. But he knew that that damned doctor had stepped over a line and he’d help her. She was sure of it.

It really wasn’t hard to find him. He was a high flying admiral, well loved by peers and public alike. He did a lot of publicity stuff for the ‘fleet, so she only had to figure out where he would be assigned next to get him outside his office.

Luckily there was nothing a little eyelash-batting wouldn’t get you, if done right. He would be interviewed outside the main academy hall about some flames the ‘fleet had been getting about its outrageous use of tax-dollars.

The interview had clearly not gone well, and it would have been good if it had, for Winona anyway, but she could deal.

“Sir,” she said stepping in front of him as he made his way back to his office.

“Sorry ma’am, I’m not taking any other interviews today, if you have an issue or question for the ‘fleet you may take it up—” he said, not even looking up from his PADD.

“No, I’m not here for an interview, Chris. It’s me, Winona. Remember?” He looked up and hid his surprise well, but she knew him.

“Winona.” He looked as if he didn’t know how to react, but in no hurry to do anything. It was a moment frozen between recognition and distance, something she couldn’t understand. “Winnie. It’s been a long time.” He sighed and looked let down, and again she didn’t understand it. What could she possibly have done within seconds of meeting him to merit his disapproval?

She had hoped, actually, for a more exciting response. At least then she could take the conversation forward and ask him a favour, but the way he spoke just radiated tiredness and exasperation. For a split second she wasn’t sure if she should have come to him. Could he really help if he was this worn down? “Yeah.” She replied, and she jumped when he continued on his way to his office, she supposed. “Wait!” she jumped after him, “I need to talk to you!”

He paused and she caught up with him. Just as she was about to open her mouth to speak, he cut her off. “What’s there to talk about? Winnie, it’s been god-knows-how-many years, there’s nothing left to say.” He looked like he was on the verge of walking off, but she planted her feet in the ground and placed her hands on his shoulders, holding him back.

It was a very intimate touch, one which she had used with George in their moments together. She wasn’t sure why but it sent a signal to the other party that she was being submissive, and that they were in control or something. The lines around his eyes softened, but it didn’t hide the fact that he was tired, and old. She wondered what George would have looked like—what she looked like, to others.

“You were Georges’ best friend, his best man at our wedding. I need your help.” She knew she had come here for work alone, but it was impossible to not remember the good days, back when they were young. She’d spent so many days in their happy company, George had become the brother she never had.

She was snapped out of it by Chris’ voice. “And you’re rumored to be the great Jim Kirk’s mother. I suppose we’re on the same side. What do you need?” and he wanted to be outraged, wanted to be angry that she had the gall to approach him for help after she’d ignored him after George died. She’d pretended they didn’t know each other, and she was, at that time his only memory of George and he had hated her for that. And now she needed a favour.

“I really need your help. I want to fix things with Jim.” He froze, just as she had expected. He looked at her with sky-blue eyes, only just less intense than Jims’. He tried to read her just as she tried to read him. It didn’t work. She couldn’t imagine what he was thinking.

“What makes you think I can help you?” he asked, quietly, finally.

“Please, Chris. Don’t take me for a fool. I know you’re the one who convinced him to join the ‘fleet, against my wishes.” She felt a hot rush of emotion; anger. She was his mother, for gods’ sake! He knew she didn’t want Jim in the ‘fleet and he had gone behind her back and convinced him to join? How? He’d dared him. Of all the stupid things, he’d dared Jimmy to do better than his father, and it was like telling Jimmy to go out there and kill himself! She hadn’t liked him back then, but she hadn’t wanted him dead. No, she didn’t think she could have harmed the last thing George ever gave her. But she did, a small voice told her, and she ignored it. She knew, she knew she had, but still…

“Winnie, you lost that power the moment you disowned him as your child in your head. The moment you stopped providing the care a mother gives to a young boy, you lost the right to have an opinion, or to have that opinion make a difference in his life. The ‘fleet gave him a family. What are you going to give him?” Apparently he was angry too. She knew he still felt the loss of George, who had been like his brother.

“I’m his mother, Chris. I—I gave birth to him. I have a right to be a part of his life. I love him,” and she meant it, she meant it with whatever was left in her soul but she was suddenly struck by how awkward it would be to finally meet him. She barely knew him, and if she was honest with herself it was true that the only thing taking her forward was her enchantment with the idea that maybe, just maybe they’d be a family again. She didn’t know anymore, she wasn’t sure what it meant to love him. He was her son, okay. But then?

“So you suddenly decided to love him? After so many years of simply not giving a damn? Winona, I’m not a fool either. I love that boy like my own son, and I care for him. If you care for him now, like you claim to, think about it. What do you think your sudden reappearance,” his tone was sarcastic, eyes angry, “will do to him? How will he cope? He’s lived for years watching his friends smothered by family when they return from missions on which they’ve risked their lives. He’s always been alone. Most of the people who know him think his mothers’ dead, Winnie. And for all it’s worth, that’s what you’ve been to him, and to me.” Pike’s speech was speeding up, and his tone was getting more and more harsh, as if laden with emotion he didn’t know how to channel.

She had almost let it go, and had been reconsidering but Chris’ words fueled the dying flame inside of her. She had almost given up, but he made her mad. How dare he presume to interfere in her family?! She’d tolerated him, even grown to accept him but this was crossing the line. She spoke, ready to slap him and be done with it. To hell with the easy way, she’d walk through hell and back to get to Jim.

“Can you really keep me away from him, Chris? It’s going to be so easy to find out where he lives and just go meet him. It doesn’t have to be permanent or anything, I’m not even going to stay with him. I just need to see his face again, just need to remind myself of what he looks like. Can you imagine, the only times I’ve seen my son since he left home are in holovids. I want to hold my little boy, Chris.” She was desperately trying to choke down tears, and failing. “I just need to see him. How could it possibly hurt? I just need him to know I love him. Just for that.” She was rationalizing, she realised. Not reasoning.

And despite her promise to herself to be angry and fierce she was again blanketed by a deep fear that she was flying blind. She knew she wanted to meet Jim and tell him she loved him, but then what? Would she get involved in his life? Would he appreciate that? He was a young man now. A Captain. But she had to meet him, she just had to. It was right, because nothing should separate a mother and her son, and she hadn’t done that when he was younger and she just had to do it now.

And more than assuring him that she loved him, she needed to know that he’d forgiven her because lately she hadn’t been able to sleep, sitting in the dark room in the hotel, tempted to just knock herself out with alcohol. It was getting ridiculous. She’d prided herself on being strong and resilient and such a situation had reduced her to rubble, and she just needed it to be right.

“Winnie, I don’t think you understand the situation. You don’t know how he’s been affected by that abandonment. He—I don’t even know how to describe it,” and Pike looked genuinely frustrated. “Do you know what his XO and CMO told me happened after one mission in which he got hurt? He hid his injury. He seriously did not report that the whole of his back was peppered with metal shrapnel, and quietly worked on the bridge until it was over, and you know what he said?”

Winona shook her head, mutely. Of course she didn’t.

Pike opened a document on his PADD and read out, “He said, and I quote, ‘It’s like this, Bones. I’m a Captain, as I’m sure you know and I have to make choices. Either I tell you that I’m hurt, and you being an idiot and loving me more than I’m worth, and me being a Captain, I’d be treated first. Or I let you deal with twenty other people first.

But the thing is, I can handle the pain, and pretty damn well. And my life is not worth more than anyone else’s, under any circumstances. And I’m needed elsewhere. I’m counting on that to get me through, and the thing is, it usually does. I can pull through, and twenty lives are saved every twenty minutes I hang on, because we all know you love me too much to maintain your judgment. Everything works out, right?’

And when McCoy told him that he could have died, Jim just said ‘That’s a risk I’m willing to take.’” He paused to observe Winona’s reaction.

She looked worried, then angry. “They’re trying to rat him out! For, what is it? Being emotionally compromised! Or psychologically unstable. Damn it, someone should tell him to make better friends! Someone needs to look out for him,” she said giving Pike a significant look, as if volunteering herself for the job.

“They were terrified for him. They were covering for him. They told me even though Jim’s CO is Archer. It’s not them who I’m worried about. I’m worried about your intentions. They’d never hurt him, they’d take bullets for him. You, I don’t know. He’s already been hurt so much. You’ll get what? Absolution? And he’ll get his world turned upside-down and inside-out. What, Winnie, you think that’s a fair trade? You think I can let you do something like that?”

She looked like she was stifling tears, because it hurt to think she’d played a part in doing this to Jim, and she said such. “But now it’s different. I can help him. I can convince him that I care.” She was still fixated on her goal.

“Winnie. How the heck are you going to do that? Going to him is going to remind him that he mattered less to you than your abusive second husband, and yes, I know about that Frank guy. Can’t believe you settled for him after George. You’ll just remind him that he mattered to you less than your first son, and less than his fathers’ blasted car. It’s going to destroy him when he’s just managed to make it to a better place. Look, I wouldn’t say I’m in Jim’s inner circle, but that’s an observation I’ve made and I can’t. I won’t help you do that to him. Winnie, come on. You know better.”

She held her head high because nothing he said would change her mind now. She would meet her son, if it was the last thing she did.

“Christopher Pike, I thought you would help me get in touch with my son, my youngest child and the legacy of your best friend. But I should have known better. I will find Jim whether you help me or not, and I hope you’ll be happy when you look back and think, I should have helped her.” Her voice was proud, and dangerous and Pike was faced with a decision.

If he let her go she would most definitely barge in and not leave, but if he ‘helped’ her she would be bound by pre-set rules that could possibly limit damage. The choice was clear.

“Winnie, why do you want to see him so badly? Why now, and why so urgently? Is there something you’re not telling me? Because it certainly sounded like that.” She shook her head.

“It’s just that I’m getting old Chris. We all are. And I’m scared that if I don’t do something now, I’m going to die without talking to Jim every again. And I need his forgiveness and he needs my love, Chris. Do you understand that?” She looked at him, desperate for him to understand. “You’re right when you say that absolution is not worth ruining his world. But Chris, he still needs a mom. He needs to know that whatever happens he’ll still have me.”

“You think he’ll ever believe that?” Pike couldn’t believe she would be as naïve to think that. Jim’s trust had shattered. He didn’t even trust people who hadn’t done anything to him. He shook his head.

“Just watch, Chris. You’ll see. There’s no feeling like knowing someone’s got your back. Just trust me.”

“Winnie, people have got his back. He’s got a huge support circle. I don’t mean to hurt you, because no matter how I don’t like you, George loved you and that is your only redeeming quality in my opinion. But you’re a bit too late. He’s not a child anymore, Winnie. He’s a man, and a strong, intelligent, brave man who sometimes doesn’t care for his own injuries. He’s developed a world without you, and to re-enter it now would be hard, and painful.” He was looking at her pleadingly, and she just felt infuriated that he thought he could tell her what to do.

He sighed when he saw the stubborn expression on her face. “Winnie, to me it just looks like you’re being incredibly selfish, but I know you aren’t going to leave the boy alone, so I’d better help you minimize damage. Yeah, I’ll help you, but I’ll have you know I know what you’re up to. You don’t love him, you just want forgiveness for your sins before you die.” His voice was suddenly harsh and unforgiving, as if the momentary truce was over and the conversation was coming to an end.

“How could you say that?” Winona asked, tearing, even though it rang true to a degree. But she wouldn’t believe that. She had to trust that it would work out okay. She had to know because she needed to get his trust back, she needed to trust herself.

He shrugged. “Because it’s true. Now move it. Give me your number and go back to your hotel. I’ll help you arrange it with Jim.” She beamed and Pike could see why George had fallen so deeply in love with her. She was beautiful in a dignified way, even now.

He nodded and turned around, beginning the walk back to his office.

She stood there in the lawn, thinking. She knew she should probably do what he said, but a small part of her roared with righteousness. She began to fume at the though of Pike looking down at her smugly, thinking he was in charge and that he could control her and her son. Screw that, he couldn’t. She wouldn’t let him. She was perfectly capable of handling things on her own, and she didn’t even know why she’d gone to him in the first place. It wasn’t like she couldn’t find out where Jim lived on her own.

She smirked, suddenly filled with confidence. . She wasn’t stupid and he wasn’t in charge of her. She could do whatever the fuck she wanted to, and she would, so just watch her. She hoped he’d like how it felt when she made nice with Jim all on her own, and he’d see how wrong he’d been to deny a child his mothers’ love and to insult her like that, as if it didn’t matter she’d married his best friend. She walked off in the other direction.

Meanwhile, Bones was waiting for Jim to open the door. He hadn’t bothered going over or calling the previous night, because Winona would most certainly not risk catching Jim at a bad time, or in a compromising situation, lest it cause him to dislike her more.

The door opened, but it wasn’t Jim. It was Spock, who simply half-raised an eyebrow and let him in. He was naked from the waist up, hair tousled and slightly wet. It wasn’t Spock’s natural state, but what was Bones to know. He shrugged and sighed. “Listen, Spock—” but he was interrupted by Jim who had just arrived, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist, dripping wet.

Bones looked at him, then at Spock whose ears were slightly green-er than usual. He made a face, inferring what they had just done, and Jim grinned his shit-eating grin, and Spock looked amused in that Spock-ish way of his. Bones hated that he’d be wiping it off his face soon.

Jim seemed to sense Bones’ discomfort and the grin fell from his face. Automatically filled with concern he asked, “What happened Bones? Ya okay?”

Bones nodded but sat down and both Jim and Spock followed suit.

“I was in a bar last night, and I met this lady, and we were talking and stuff and then I figured out that…” he trailed off, unsure of how to continue. How could he just tell Jim? He had to. “It was your mom, Jim.”

For a moment Jim was blank, as if the information didn’t register, then his composure slipped, and he looked shocked and even scared. But he pulled it up and covered with a grin that looked real, but Bones knew better. “Please don’t tell me you slept with her. That’s something I don’t think I could deal with.” Bones gave him a look, as if to say, _you moron Jim stop faking shit_.

Spock placed a hand on Jim’s bare shoulder but didn’t meet his eyes. Bones knew Spock would take extra care to not influence Jim’s decision with his own opinion, and would do his level best to meet him on an emotional level. Which was really sweet and everything, but gross. But that was the last thing on his mind. “Oh my god, you did sleep with her, didn’t you?”

Bones rolled his eyes. “Can it, you creep. You know why I’m here. Me’n’Scotty kinda warded her off but she didn’t even flinch when Scotty unleashed his accent. She tried to frame me for molesting her.”

“Did you?” but the quelling glare both Bones and Spock shot at him shut him up. “Okay, okay. But what the heck am I supposed to do? Did she say why she’s here?”

Bones nodded. “Some crap about making nice with you and needing your forgiveness. If I read her right, it was her plan to appear at your doorstep and confront you or something.” Jim was expressionless and only Spock could feel the anger and turmoil inside.

Do I let her in? Do I talk to her? Speaking on phone is one thing but if I meet her I might lose my cool. What should I do? How dare she presume that I’d want to meet her? I don’t, I don’t, I wish she hadn’t fucking called. What now, Spock?

Spock sighed. Bones realised that this was something Spock would have to deal with and he’d have to let his opinion be clear, to help Jim. He had known the pair long enough to know what it looked like when they were talking via meld.

“Okay, okay, I’m going!” he exclaimed, drawing them from their reverie. Jim looked startled, then horrified.

“Shit, sorry Bones, sorry, I was just whining at Spock. Didn’t mean—”

Bones cut him off. He knew all that very well. He grinned. “Yeah yeah, can it. I know. But listen, Jim. Whatever you decide, I’m with you on this. I’m where-ever you wanna be, except in your bed because I don’t think I can handle that.” Jim tried to smile and almost succeeded; Bones was almost impressed, but not quite.

He told them exactly what had happened in the bar the previous night, and Spock and Jim listened quietly before beginning to discuss what they could do, or what she could possibly want.

Bones had a meeting with some other CMO’s to consolidate his findings aboard the Enterprise so he bid his farewells and was about to walk out of the dorm when Jim stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Hey Bones.”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks. I know you can’t have imagined any positive reaction to this from me, and you still came to tell me. Thanks for looking out for me,” and because that was exactly what he was doing, he blushed and nodded before getting out as quickly as possible. He had issues with touchy feely crap.

Once he was gone Jim led Spock to their couch, where they sat side-by-side, as close as two people could get, Spock’s arm around Jim’s waist as he leaned into Spock. It was an entirely domestic, peaceful scene, but the thoughts that they were exchanging were less than peaceful.

And then the phone rang.


	5. Chapter 5

Jim sat cocooned in the warmth of Spocks’ body, soothing away his fear and doubt. In situations like this his instinctive response would have been to go out and get himself as drunk as humanely possible (until Bones came and stabbed him into oblivion). But after meeting Spock, he had begun to play chess when stressed. Now, when he was ‘ _with_ ’ Spock, he had taken to mulling it over in his head, just holding (if he weren’t Jim Kirk he would call it cuddling, but he is Jim Kirk, so, no) Spock.

 _T’hy’la_ , _tell me what worries you._

But that was it. Jim wasn’t sure. _I know she’s just a woman, and she cannot do anything to me as a person, and that I’ve got so much more than I did back then. I have friends, I have family, I have you, and I love you, but I’m so scared that when she comes she’ll somehow…_

_Convince me that you are not worthy? Or convince you that you are not worthy? James Kirk the chances of this occurring are so miniscule that I will not even bother calculating them. Nothing anyone says, whatever their significance to you, can change my opinion of you, not even if they attempted to do so. I have no doubt that the good Doctor would administer a hypodermic needle with no purpose and exquisite vengeance if you should express this ridiculous sentiment; you should be aware of the fact that they love you, and I do too._

Jim paused for a solid beat. _I can’t express how much I love you, and I know it’s really illogical, but I’m still… not comfortable. I don’t feel able to let my guard down around her, and you guys have become more of my family than she ever was, or ever will be. I guess some part of it is that I don’t know what she wants from me now, why she’s suddenly coming to see me. It doesn’t make sense, and makes me wary. I guess I’m an insecure bastard when it comes down to it. Probably explains me being an attention whore._

Spock held his hand and squeezed, sending a charge through Jim. _Do not fear, t’hy’la, if you are insecure I shall take it upon myself to reassure you as much and as often as necessary, or possible._

Jim grinned at the thinly veiled suggestion. Spock was learning. Spock registered his thought and tried to decide between amusement and exasperation. _You, Jim, are incorrigible._

Jim kept grinning, but the tension had seeped from his shoulders and the smile reached his eyes now. Spock gave himself the equivalent of a pat on the back for having successfully assuaged his partners’ fears.

They spent a few treasured moments in silence (which came by more rarely now-a-days) until the holo-phone rang. Jim sighed and crossed the room to pick it up. It was Pike, so he assumed it was business and put it on screen.

“Chris!” he said, with genuine affection, smiling. Christopher Pike had taken his role as Jims’ mentor very seriously, and had ended up, in Jims’ eyes, as the father he’d never known. He’d never expected it from the stern man who whistled like no-body’s business, and was rumored to be the most terrifying man on Campus since Admiral Komack who had thankfully retired two years back. Jim hadn’t yet experience that side, but he had a feeling he would, soon, judging by the look on his face.

“Jim, Spock,” he said quietly acknowledging both occupants of the room. “Guys, I have bad news for you.”

Jim wasn’t sure he could take any more bad news today, and was a bit surprised when Spock spoke out. “Allow me to hazard a guess; Mrs. Kirk has approached you?” Both Jim and Pike looked at Spock in surprise.

He explained. “The logic is sound. Judging based on her character as described by everyone who knows her or is acquainted to her, she is both very determined and as cunning as a metaphorical fox. It is common knowledge that Admiral Pike has taken Jim under his metaphorical wing, and hence any person or persons with a metaphorical quarter-a-brain could deduce that to reach Jim Kirk one should reach Admiral Pike.”

There was a moment of silence, and Jim burst out laughing with Pike just stared.

“I assume my usage of quaint Earth colloquialisms is adequate.” Spock said, mock-haughtily. Jim could tell.

“Yeah, Spock. All of ‘em in perfect places, but you can’t use the word metaphorical everywhere. It diminishes the metaphor.”

There was a moment of silence. “I do not see the sense in the reference to non-metaphorical foxes, wings or fractions of brains as representatives of mental capacity.” Jim grinned, and Spock looked on only showing the slightest amusement. Jim knew it had been faked for his benefit, but it had worked so Spock didn’t mind. It was only after he had met Jim that he had started not-minding things.

Pike shook his head. “You two deserve each other,” he sighed. Jim almost protested with a line that no doubt included the ridiculous concept of destiny or some such, but Pike cut him off. “You two don’t sound the least surprised.”

Jim shook his head. “Bones already told us. He met her in the pub last night and apparently he very clearly warned her off. He’s worried she’ll be back.”

Pike shook his head again. “No wonder she seemed out for his blood.”

Now Jim looked startled. “What?”

Pike nodded. “She kept insisting that you needed to be guided into making better friends, and then implying that she would be the best one to do that. She was trying to convince me to set up a meeting with you.”

Jim laughed. “You blew her off, right?” and stopped when he saw the serious look on Pike’s face. “You _agreed_ to it? Chris, why?”

“I know Winona. I’ve known her for a long time. You know I was George’s ring-bearer, and in all these years I have come to the conclusion that she is ruthless. She’ll do whatever it takes, Jim. She’s going to meet you, no matter what it takes, damn the consequences. I’d rather it be on our terms than on hers’. I was thinking it would be so much better if I could help draw her out in some public situation so she wouldn’t get close enough to cut.”

Jim sighed and collapsed into the sofa beside Spock. “Damn it, it’s like she’s _haunting_ me. Why did she come? I mean, why now? We talked on the phone and it was all I could do to not swear at her, and she’s coming here, _now_? What made her think I could handle it?”

“I know, Jim. But there’s nothing we can do. We can’t even file a restraining order against your remaining parent without solid evidence that she’s causing psychological or physical harm.”

“So they don’t believe in preventive measures. They don’t care if we get hurt.” Jim’s voice was flat.

“No, Jim. Too many kids shirk their responsibility to their parents because they want to spend their money somewhere else, or whatever. They won’t take that risk in court anymore. You’ll just have to deal.”

Jim nodded, weary again. Spock found himself full of dislike for this woman he had not yet met, simply from second hand accounts and his _t’hy’la_ ’s reaction to her very presence.

Pike opened his mouth to say something when the doorbell rang. Pike mock saluted and cut the call; it wouldn’t do to further spread the rumours about Jim sleeping around with superior officers. His private number calling Jim’s dorm would only fire up matters.

Jim was about to open the door when Spock held him back. He had long ago admitted to having instincts, if not feelings, and he had an instinct that something was up, and he would deny it till the day he died, but it was completely illogical.

Jim knew better than to question. He made his way to the back door and waited for Spock to open the front door. Spock swung it open, and was faced with a woman whose features could be seen on Jim’s face, sky-blue eyes and full lips. She had the signs of wild beauty in her time, and even now, years past her peak she was attractive in a dignified manner.

“Madam,” Spock said graciously. He had not been the Ambassadors’ son without learning anything. “How may I help you?”

“I’m looking for James Kirk, and this is his dorm.” It wasn’t a question.

“Of course, madam. You must be Mrs. Kirk, his mother. Jim is not available at the moment, it would be appreciated if you could come later. If you would like, I could take a message on his behalf, and let him know.”

She scrutinized him. “I’d like to wait here, if possible. My accommodation is quite far and travelling is an inconvenience. You must be Mr. Spock, Jimmy’s first officer.” She stepped so close to Spock that he (though he’d never admit it) was startled and stepped backwards. She apparently took that as an invitation into their home.

Spock guided the woman to a seat in the living room. _Jim, get out of the house. She is determined to wait for you and I suspect you require time before you can confront her. I will deal with her; I have told her you are unavailable currently._

 _Thanks Spock,_ and he was gone.

There was a momentary silence before Spock spoke. “Could I offer you tea while you are here?”

She shook her head, “Nope, I don’t touch anything from anyone elses’ house. I don’t know where it’s been,” and Spock could have imagined it, though it was highly unlikely (the chances were one to nine hundred fifty six thousand three hundred and thirty one) but she looked at _him_ as if he was the contaminant she was avoiding. It didn’t make sense, though.

Surely a woman with history such as hers’ could not be xenophobic, right? Her son had been delivered by an Ardinian, surely she was not one of the few people on Earth who believed that Humans were worse off since they had begun exploring space, and that all non-human species were hostile to humans. But then again, she had lost her husband to Space. There was no limiting the illogic of humans when it came to matters of loss.

But Spock didn’t doubt he’d reach the same peaks of illogic if something were to happen to Jim. He almost brought himself down to superstition to ensure no such thing happened, but _that_ would have been illogical.

It occurred to him that they had been sitting in the same room in silence for too long, so he attempted to make conversation. It was, as the doctor would put it, disastrous.

“Mrs. Kirk, the weather is fine today, is it not?” he asked, in an attempt to metaphorically break the ice. The sky rumbled with thunder and if Spock admitted to feeling embarrassment, he would have _killed_ himself, but further inflicting bodily harm would have no foreseeable use, so he ignored her strange look. He did not need her approval to know he was valued on this planet; he had Jims’, and it was more than enough.

He waited patiently. Vulcans were talented at many things, and this was one of them. However, to Winona the silence grew more and more uncomfortable, and it began to feel like the Vulcan was meditating or working in his head or something. She wondered if the man was like this all the time; it was a miracle Jimmy hadn’t gone nuts by then. A man like her son deserved a much more fun dorm-mate, or house-mate, whatever. He should be surrounded by pretty girls and music and laughter, he was twenty six, for gods’ sake! She wouldn’t be surprised if this man forbade women, or pets, or food, or friends, or music, or noise or any colour except black and white in the house. She felt sorry for her son, and she _had_ to break the silence.

“So, you’re the XO on the _Enterprise_ _._ ” It wasn’t a question but the way it was said told Spock an answer was expected. He sometimes wondered if it would take his whole life for him to understand the nuances of the English language, or even Standard.

“Yes, ma’am.” He didn’t add anything else; what could he possibly say?

“Jimmy says you’re his best friend,” she began and Spock knew what she was talking about because he had been there, but she continued and he was surprised. “But I reckon he was just saying it because you were there. So tell me a bit more about my son. I mean, I know you aren’t his best friend, because I mean, really, you know.” Spock really didn’t.

“Perhaps the person most suited to inform you of Jim’s circumstance is Jim himself,” but Winona would have none of it.

“Come now, surely you are aware of his social life, right? As his first officer? Tell me something about him, please?” And Spock began to understand Jims’ reluctance to meet his mother. He knew it made no sense at all, because he barely knew her, and her opinion meant next to nothing for him, but he felt a desire to have her impressed. He felt a desire to impress her, more like. He didn’t understand it, and couldn’t classify it as a logical reaction to anything, so he was probably the most immune person on the campus and yet he had the unfathomable urge.

He began awkwardly. “He is an incredible Captain, for one. It both consumes him and defines him as a person. He is exceptionally dedicated and passionate especially in regards to the saving of lives of living beings. He runs his ship very differently compared to other captains. He has openly allowed and supports internal fraternization as he believes it will lead to people working harder to ensure the safety of their partners, on the condition that if the relationship ends badly they will either deal with it like adults or he will have one of them transferred. As a result, crew members appear to have much longer relationships.”

“You sound like you don’t approve of relationships, but I suppose I understand.”

Spock paused to ponder where the deduction had come from. “Pardon? How did you come to this conclusion?”

She shrugged. “You’re a Vulcan.” And when he still looked blank (-er than usual) she continued, “Vulcans don’t have feelings. Cold bastards, your lot.”

Spock could not _believe_ that she had just made a statement which could prove her xenophobic. It was incredible, and would have dismissed this kind of behavior as hateful rumor if he had not heard it himself. And she had said it to his face. He didn’t care what she thought but he had been under the impression that even amongst people who didn’t like each other there was an expectation of surface civility, if nothing else. His shock had even bubbled through to Jim.

_Hey, love, what happened?_

_Nothing, Jim. I do not know if she will remain but I will—_

“But you’re a half Vulcan, right?”

_Spock? Spock, are you okay?_

Spock froze. He really did not want to enter this area of conversation with someone who was either trying very hard to or unintentionally insulting him. He would assume that everything she said up to that point was in innocence (he doubted it—she appeared to be highly intelligent) but if she breached the topic of his mother he would not be held responsible for his words, if not actions.

 _Jim I will converse with you later, I find that I must use all my capacity to keep up with her questioning tactics._ And when he felt Jim worrying _don’t worry t’hy’la, I am capable of handling myself,_ and cut the link before Jim could tell him that he wasn’t worried about Spock ‘handling himself’ as much as he was about Spock being ‘handled’. Spock didn’t have to hear it to know it.

“Yes, but forgive me, I do not feel comfortably discussing personal matters with a stranger,” he said in his chilliest voice.

“Oh come now, you’re Jimmy’s best friend and I’m his mom! Surely you know me, I’m not a stranger, I’m practically family!” and even though the words were innocent and friendly, her tone was like a blade of ice which cut him. He was somewhat concerned that he had been infected by both the Doctors’ and Nyota’s penchant for drama. He would have to remain alert it did not become a habit, but for now there were more important things to handle.

“Jim rarely speaks of you, and when he does it is not of his own choice. I do not know you because even though you have given birth to my best friend he is not close to you, and as a result I am even less close to you and hence a stranger. I do not discuss intimate matters with strangers.”

“Huh.” She looked slightly taken aback, but not injured like he had felt when she had spoken of Vulcans. She had perhaps, not been expecting him to express his dislike and mistrust of him openly. She changed the topic.

“Does he have a girlfriend?” and without really having to pause he nodded yes. He was a good judge of character, and he knew she didn’t like him as a Vulcan, and it was highly likely she would not approve of her son dating a man, so he would not get Jim into trouble there, especially when Jim was not there.

“Oh?” she seemed surprised. “Is she pretty?”

“Jim’s choice in women is unfathomable, but I suspect that to the general population she is attractive.” Spock found himself in a unique position, one which he had never been in before and would never re-enter if he had a choice in the matter. He wasn’t sure what to do next, he couldn’t possibly give any more details because Jim would have to create a girlfriend and there were too many people who knew otherwise and would fall into the trap of telling her Jim was dating Spock. “Forgive me, but I must attend to a personal matter,” Spock said, as vaguely as possible and walked out of the room, telling himself he was not running away.

Meanwhile, Jim was pacing outside his back door. What kind of person was he, that he was hiding from his own mother. It was absurd, to the point he wasn’t sure if he was dreaming. The whole thing had a dream-like quality, maybe, he began hoping, his mother _hadn’t_ popped in for a random visit. But he knew he was deluding himself. He needed to figure out what to do.

How could he go inside and deal with her? It was a small thing to make sure their stories lines up, but what would he tell her? What could she possibly want with him? Would she stay over? Expect dinner? He sighed. Give him a bunch of Klingon war-birds _anyday_. He _hated_ this stress.


	6. Chapter 6

Suddenly, _t’hy’la, forgive me. I have blundered and told your mother that you are dating a conventionally beautiful woman. I—_ he paused, hesitant _—felt that she would not approve of our homosexual relationship; she has already indicated that she does not approve of me being Vulcan, which is the height of illogic because I cannot help who I am and how I was born, and I feel an inexplicable desire to please her. You must find someone to counterfeit a relationship, and preferably soon. She appears to be insistent on remaining until she can meet you._

Jim almost laughed. That was his mom. Spock sounded sorry, and worried. _You’ve been dragged from your pedestal of logic into my SOP crazy ventures, haven’t you?_ And he suddenly felt like laughing despite the gravity of the situation. Getting a fake girlfriend was what Bones would call a Kirkian Solution, which only bought time and trouble and didn’t actually solve the problem. But back to Spock and the issue at hand. _Don’t worry love, she’s like that. You’re probably making her nervous, explaining why she’s poking into our business. So what now?_

_Nyota would be an advisable contender._

_For what?_ Jim asked, not registering the sudden jump of context. Then he got it, and he didn’t like it at all.She was Spock’s ex, and his best friends’ girl. How awkward would _that_ be? He wasn’t a relationship breaker. He didn’t do affairs, especially not now (not anymore), especially not with Bones’ girl. He couldn’t do that to Spock. He wouldn’t. It just went against his moral code, which _did_ exist, thanks very much. Spock registered his shock and sent vaguely soothing thoughts his way.

 _I know you are still mine,_ _Jim._ Jim was startled at how easily Spock understood the source of his distress, and then considered that perhaps Spock had thought of the same thing before he had suggested Nyota. _I am, and will be yours until you say you do not want me anymore. But until then, you are, as you say, stuck with me._

And standing there in the grass behind his house, dressed in plain clothes and uncombed hair, Jim felt like the luckiest person anywhere, ever, basking in Spock’s warm love. _And you’re stuck with me, love._

There was a pause, before Spock began again. _She is in a relationship with the doctor who will not object. She trusts him and I believe he does too, though you might be the better judge of that. And she loves you like a brother, and I still do not entirely understand the relationship between you and the Doctor, but I believe he loves you like family as well. They would want to help, and would most likely be disappointed, and somewhat violent, if you did not involve them._

 _And,_ Spock added practically, _asking Nyota will save you the trouble of explaining our situation._ Jim was swamped by an un-namable feeling when he ‘heard’ Spock’s use of the possessive term. _She appears to be the best candidate._

 _I hate this, you know Spock._ Jim’s mental voice was petulant and Jim was just glad that they had the most perfect way of understanding each other, in the sense that no other two people could read each other quite as well. Except other Vulcan t’hy’la, but even those were rare. He didn’t know what he would have done if he hadn’t been able to express this sentiment, this dark frustration to Spock, to let him know that firstly he didn’t like the situation, and more importantly, that he appreciated Spocks’ gesture, or sacrifice.

Underlying this; the fear and tension, and the deep and unshakable dread that when they (read: everyone) found out what his family was really like, and how he and his mother interacted, they’d see and finally figure out how screwed up he was.

 _Indeed, I feel similarly towards the situation,_ Spock continued the previous train of thought, and it took a minute for Jim to reconnect to the conversation, _but you must not allow this useless emotion_. It was a sign of how well they knew each other that Jim knew ‘useless’ meant ‘emotion that could change nothing’ and no other negative term. _You must not allow it_ _to affect your performance. You may find that your acting skills will be called into play very often in the near future._ Spock’s attempt at levity failed, and Jim had to say something but wasn’t sure how, so he settled for the best he could manage.

_I’m sorry._

_Do not concern yourself with it, Jim. I am more than happy to be of assistance. I am content as long as you are confident of the fact that I love you. The moment you lose faith in this fact, Jim Kirk, I will personally escort your mother outside, regardless of her impression of me as a Vulcan or you as her son._

_I love you too,_ And the link went silent. Spock returned to the living room, where Winona was looking through a photo-album from under the coffee table. Thankfully they had no incriminating pictures in it, but all the old-fashioned pictures (developed using actual film) were of them and their friends, Spock included.

“So, you _are_ his best friend?” she asked quietly.

“Indeed. Forgive me for not telling the truth, it appeared to me that you would prefer it if Jim was more to your expectations. I now realise that my actions have caused you to think of us in a negative light, more so than usual. But it is the truth. The bridge crew is family to Jim Kirk, and Doctor McCoy and I are his best friends.” Spock wasn’t planning it, but he said it anyway. “If you did not want to know this it would have been advisable to not go through any personal belongings.” It was illogical and unnecessarily vengeful, but strangely satisfying.

She paused. “Are you implying something?”

Her tone had changed, and even though Spock considered himself quite well versed in Human tonal nuances he was unable to decipher the meaning of her new manner of speech.

“I have not implied anything, Mrs. Kirk. I am simply stating a fact.” Spock’s voice was calm, and face blank to any who did not know him well.

“You were, were you.” Spock found her statement of absolutely no use. It gave him no information, asked no question and the only thing he could tell was that she was being sarcastic. She sat down and did not meet his eyes for what felt like an eternity. In Jims’ words.

“So, how did it feel when your planet blew up?” She asked, and her voice was ice and venom and steel, and Spock felt his spine rigidify, anger and grief surging through his veins. It had been a long time, but one never forgot that feeling, he certainly never would, the mental-cries of millions of people, just _dying_. Even greater than that pain was the sense of helplessness, the complete inability to do anything to help them, to _save_ them. The mindless, senseless loss of so much that was precious…

He sat there, stiff and lost, feeling like he could throw up. It had been a long time since anyone had made him feel this way, and he wasn’t sure if he could handle it. But for Jim…

*~*~*~*

Meanwhile, Jim had made his way to the apartment which Bones and Nyota shared. Their arrangement was probably one of the strangest he’d ever seen, or even heard of. He was familiar with ‘benefits-only’ and ‘friends-only’ set-ups. He was even familiar with the classic ‘friends-with-benefits’ arrangements, and was currently experiencing a love-of-a-lifetime relationship, but Bones and Nyota shared a unique ‘friends with emotional, and if need be physical benefits’ arrangement. He didn’t think people any less distinctive could have pulled it off. But either way, they were now sharing an apartment, and Jim supported it. He thought they were kinda cute, not that he’d ever ( _ever_ ) admit it.

Bones’ apartment was three blocks away. It was one of the nicest in the campus, and Bones had got it by bullying the administrator (who was terrifying in her own right) into submission. Nyota had played ‘good-cop’ and been really sweet, and they’d ended up with an apartment with a brilliant view of the lake. They worked well together, like that. But now he wasn’t thinking too much about how well they meshed, or even about the betting pool on whether they would get married within the next year, or the year after that (never was not an option).

He knocked on the rustic red door, briskly, hoping he wasn’t interrupting anything important. He _then_ tried his best to scrub _that_ image from his mind and had only partially succeeded when Bones opened the door. His mouth was open and it was clear that he was about to tell Jim off, but something on Jim’s face must have given him away.

“Jim, you okay, kid?” Bones’ voice was concerned, in a gruff, I’d-never-admit-it way.

Jim shook his head. “My mom’s at my place, and Spocks’ distracting her.” Uhura appeared from behind Bones, tapped the back of his head in loving exasperation and yanked open the door.

“Come in, Jim.” She was wearing a bathrobe (Jim didn’t _plan_ to, he just noticed these things). Jim nodded and walked in, and began pacing. Neither of them interrupted. They knew these moods of his. He got like this when he was stressed and trying to find a solution to something. Bones even joked that Jim’s carpet was threadbare because of all his pacing. At these times, Spock liked to point out that Jim didn’t really have a carpet, so the doctor was personifying illogic and could he please stop?

“Shit.”

“Well, hullo to you too,” Uhura said, with a smile that was a recent addition to her array; soft, sweet and relaxed. She knew Jim and his family (who-ever they were) didn’t get along, and Jim didn’t like to advertise it because he thought it made him weak or some macho BS like that. Len had looked like he totally understood, and despite being a linguist, skilled even in the language of the body, she didn’t get it. But she did know that the skeletons in Jims’ closet were none of her business, and didn’t affect her opinion of Jim at all. She just needed to figure out a way to convince Jim of that.

Bones smiled at her and his smile, too, was new; completely unworried and at peace, happy even. But it did nothing to cover up his concern, and Jim _hated_ intruding on this private feeling. He knew he didn’t like it when others’ intruded on him and Spock, and he really wished he didn’t have to do this. He should have gone somewhere else, but he was here now and there was nothing for it.

“She’s there,” and the repetition of this tiny detail told so much, and so much she didn’t want to know; Jim was scared. Scared of what, or why (this was Jim _Kirk,_ ya know?), she wasn’t sure, but the prospect of his mother in his home scared him.

She didn’t know the details of the whole affair—Bones wouldn’t tell her and she respected that; they weren’t his secrets to tell. But she suspected that Bones didn’t know all of it either. She doubted anyone but Spock did, and that too, only because of the multiple melds that Jim and Spock must have shared. Jim didn’t seem like the type to spill his guts to anyone, even his life-partner, despite his annoying tendency to talk non-stop in other situations.

If she knew nothing else about Jim Kirk, it was that he hated to show weakness, and somehow he thought that admitting pain, or sorrow, or even anger was weakness. Kinda like Spock, to a degree. But she understood Spock. It was a cultural thing. She didn’t understand Jim. At all.

“Spock told her I’m dating a girl, ‘cuz he thinks she might be homophobic.”

Bones looked somewhat outraged and Nyota, despite the severity of the situation, was a bit amused because _he_ was the one normally saying how gross it was to have images of Jim and Spock in a field of daisies. Well, he normally cleared that image up by talking her into having really hot sex, but that was honestly the last thing on her mind.

Uhura sighed. Len had confessed to her, once day, that he had been somewhat xenophobic. It was just something that had been in his environment for so long that he hadn’t stopped to think how others would see it. One day, apparently, Jim had taken him into his office and burnt it out of him, telling him that Starfleet wanted his balls for harboring ( _harboring? Really?!)_ a xenophobic _doctor_ of all things.

What the heck would they do if a non-human needed treatment? Could they depend on McCoy to handle the situation as well as he did for humans? If he was xenophobic, what other prejudices could he possibly have?

He knew his job had been on the line, but Jim had covered for him but only under the condition that he speak to either a therapist via inter-space comm. or deal with the phobias himself. So he’d agreed to a few sessions, and Jim had talked to him a lot, about the possible causes, and then Spock had gone and saved his life, endangering his own in the process.

As Jim once said; the best first impressions are formed when in danger. Eloquent it was not, but Jim was only ever eloquent when he was angry, and he and Sulu had worked out pretty well. Bones was just glad he wasn’t Jims’ wingman anymore, thank _god_. Bloody nerve-wracking experience…

Jim shot him a glance, a nervous one and Bones was again slingshot into the gravity of the situation. “He’s right. And she’s not _just_ homophobic,” as if that wasn’t bad enough. “I think she’s xenophobic. And I know she’s smart enough to recognise the similarities between Spock as a Vulcan and—”

“And Romulans. Who attacked the _Kevin_.” Nyota found herself completing his sentence, and only then realizing the implications. She figured Winona wouldn’t have cared about the recent attempt to destroy the Earth; she’d have been left jaded by the attack in which her husband had died. And she was a normally peaceful person, really, but she found some part within her beginning to bubble and steam, with righteous anger and what Bones termed ‘mother hen-ness’.

And it was kinda true. She was immensely protective of Jim Kirk (though she’d never say it to his face; his head would swell up so much he wouldn’t be able to pass through doorways) because some part of him, be it the utter annoying-ness or the sheer bull-headed selflessness, that reminded her of her brother, who had been on Vulcan during the Narada Incident, before Vulcan imploded. How could any person, any _mother_ not care that their child had almost died? How could that woman not feel sympathy, anger that an entire race had almost been wiped out? It didn’t compute, for Uhura.

She couldn’t imagine what it had been like for Jim, growing up with a mother who was so against anything new or different. It possibly explained why Jim never turned down the chance to try something new, because he was trying to experience all that he had missed out when he was a child, and he was trying to go against a stifling philosophy that had haunted him for so long.

That didn’t even start to cover how mad she was that anyone (and she knew people did, but not around her they didn’t) could hold Spock’s blood and philosophy against him. He couldn’t help they way he’d been born, and there was nothing wrong with being homosexual. That stereotype and prejudice was fucking ancient, she couldn’t understand where or when it had suddenly resurfaced. And of all people, in Jim’s mother!

If that woman said _anything_ to Spock that made him hurt…

“I’m worried about Spock. I hope she doesn’t poke at him. I know he can handle it, but I don’t know if _I_ can.” Jim was still pacing, and Uhura realised that actually, this was the first time she’d seen him pacing. As in, she knew he did. Len told her. Even Spock told her. But it felt like they were the only two people Jim had let see how he got, and Uhura tried to not feel insulted.

That was Jim Kirk all over. He’d never let you see beyond the walls. Then she realised just how panicked he must have been to let _her_ see, and more than ever the enormity of the thing chilled her bones. It wasn’t that she was worried about Jims’ mother; it would be too easy to make her vanish. But she was worried that it had affected Jim so much. “I need to get back in there.”

“And you need a girlfriend.” Bones’ observation was simple and should have been obvious but it seemed to be the first time either Jim or Nyota had acknowledged _that_ bit of the problem.

“Fuck.” Jim was still pacing, brimming with nervous energy. “Gaila!” He cried and beamed. “She won’t mind, and she’s used to my half-assed plans. Perfect!”

“Jim, Gaila’s on leave. She’s on Orion. _And_ she’s not human. What would your mother say to that?” and despite the way the question was phrased, her tone was genuinely curious, as if she really didn’t know how his mother would respond. Which she didn’t, but she could guess.

“Oh yeah. I signed her leave myself. Aw shit.” Jim continued pacing, and it was driving Uhura to distraction. Then she had an idea. She looked at Len, and judging by the look on his face, he hadn’t thought of it yet. It would make him mad, but then he’d remember that this was Jim, like his brother Jim, Jim who was dating Spock, and Jim had no intentions and Nyota was offering.

She opened her mouth and suddenly Len looked at her, understanding bright in his eyes. She paused to let him think about it, and he nodded carefully because she was right and this was Jim, and she was Nyota and there was really no question about it. She didn’t know if she loved Len, not yet, not like that. But she did know that she loved him for trusting her, and she began to speak.

“Jim, what if _I_ posed as your girlfriend?”

Jim stopped pacing, and shot a glance at Len that was so quick she wasn’t sure if it had actually happened. Even now, Jim was sharp as ever. He opened his mouth and closed it. Then opened it again. She was expecting disbelief, or shock, but instead he said, “Spock suggested the same thing.” He looked at Bones again, who didn’t look angry so much as disbelieving.

“I said no to him, and I’ll say no again. I won’t do that to you guys, or to him.” And suddenly Jim was made of steel, like when his crew was in danger. “I’ve had about enough of this. I can’t believe I’m such a coward, running and hiding from my mother. I’m better than that. I don’t give a fuck what she thinks, and I’m going to go in and tell her that I’m in love with Spock, who, yes, is a man, and a Vulcan.” He strode out of the door, like he always did when he was doing something that could get him killed, the same rigid set of the back.

Bones and Uhura exchanged a glance, and followed.


	7. Chapter 7

Spock sat in silence in the same room as Winona, quiet in more ways than just sound. His posture, though ramrod straight as usual, was sad, the line of his lips just a little bit harsher than normal.

Winona did not sit. While standing, Spock was taller than her, but she would not give him that advantage while she was sitting. Contrary to popular belief, she _had_ earned that second degree in psychology. She knew perfectly well that there was much more to an argument or a fight than just words. Posture and energy and expression mattered just as much, and she would use that to her advantage.

To her it looked as if the Vulcan was meditating, grave and serious as usual. She wondered what it would take to get a reaction out of him. And maybe if she could convince Jim that he had attacked her, the poor boy would finally get over whatever guilt complex was causing him to stay with the Vulcan, and move out. Find his own place. Of course, she wouldn’t impose on him for long.

But she’d help him get his real life started. It wasn’t what she wanted for her younger child; a job which allowed him no peace and nothing but responsibility. Maybe she’d even go to Pike and talk to him about lowering Jim’s work-load. She’d be a mother for him now, when he needed her, and twice as much because she’d missed out on him while he was growing up.

And she had a reason for not liking aliens. One had killed her husband, and her only reason to live. Jim would probably think it was prejudice. It wasn’t that. Prejudice was an irrational dislike of people different from ones self. She didn’t hate them because they were different; she hated them because they’d ruined her life. Nero and that whole gang.

And if she wasn’t mistaken, Nero’s planet had been destroyed because of Spock-from-the-future. Spock. The half-Vulcan who roomed with her son. Something had to be done about that. And even if Vulcans as an endangered species had power, she’d encourage Jim to make friends with a nicer Vulcan, one who had the right kind of blood to have a push in Starfleet.

But for now she just wanted to see her son. Make sure he was okay, that he was eating well. Sleeping well. Beg for forgiveness, but he wouldn’t make her beg. Not Jim. He was, from what she had heard, probably the nicest captain anywhere, and helped people without asking anything in return. It was something any mother would be proud of, really, to have a son with such integrity. And she was proud of him. Prouder than she could have imagined. But he was a captain, and he needed to take care of himself. She didn’t know what his pay was, but he had to start investing and stuff. He had to settle down. She wanted grandchildren.

But all this would come later. Hopefully Jim would come home tonight. She wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t, if he’d found a girl for the night or something. This guy really didn’t look like he approved of sex. But she wasn’t going anywhere until she met Jim. She also wouldn’t put it past Spock to call Jim and ‘inform’ him of her presence. That wouldn’t do. This was going to be a surprise.

 

***~*~***

Spock waited in patience. He was good at that. Attempting deep meditation would no doubt be inadvisable; he would become unaware of the world around him. For now that would not do. He trusted no one around him when he was in that state, except Jim. He attempted to slide under a light meditation, focusing his mind on one point and erasing his worries. He began monitoring his pulse, rhythmic and even. The sound of the sharp clacking of heels broke his concentration. He had found that many women could walk quite stealthily in the illogical contraptions, but the current sound was deliberate, he was sure.

He opened his eyes to a face, incredibly close to his. It was only years of control that kept him from defending himself as swiftly as possible. _She means no harm, she means no harm…_ he chanted in his mind

“’scuse me, but do you absolutely _need_ that incense in that drawer? Because, see, it’s in a corner and it’s quite far from the window, and the stench can’t quite escape because the wind blows from there to—” and Spock knew much better than to be offended by anything she had said, because _she meant no harm_.

“And it’s just not fashionable for a man like Jim to be wandering around outside smelling of incense, and trust me, I’d know because I watched this show and it said that the smell of a person, like perfume or aftershave, determines how attractive they are to the common public.”

Spock wondered what she would look like if he should tell her Jim was no longer on the metaphorical market, and that he liked that Jim smelled like incense because it was like Spock’s very logical method of marking Jim for the world to see. Or smell.

“Jim had repeatedly informed me that he does not mind the smell, and in reality enjoys the fragrance. He is also confident in his outer appearance without the assistance of appearance-enhancing products. I leave them there because if I leave them near a window they may grow damp and will go to waste.”

“Darling, of _course_ he’d tell you it’s ohkay. He’s such a polite boy!” she tittered and cooed, and Spock was struck by the sudden and drastic change in her behaviour, not that it was any less abrasive than before. He could not fathom what had caused her to change her mannerisms so unexpectedly.

 

***~*~***

She knew the hybrid was not as oblivious as she’d hoped he was. He seemed to be observing her more carefully than he had been a few seconds ago. But she was pretty sure she hadn’t tipped him off or anything. 

She wasn’t stupid. This behaviour was forced; she did not intend to let him rest before Jim returned, so that he would be off his guard. She didn’t know how effective it would be for Vulcans, but he was a half-Vulcan so presumably he had some human traits. She’d play on those.

She couldn’t really tell anything he was thinking from the look on his face, but assumed he had woken up, or given up on meditation or whatever. That was good enough for her, for now. She leaned back on the couch, and the moment the soft back touched her tired neck, she was gone and still fighting hard to stay awake. Her head jerked forwards waking her, once or twice. But then she slumped backwards on the couch and fell into a deep sleep.

***~*~***

 

Spock noticed the moment her muscles went slack and her breathing slowed. He turned to watch her. She was beautiful, like Jim, and he would admit it freely, when she was not scheming or planning. Sleep erased lines of age and tiredness, painted on by years of hardship and sorrow. Her closed eyes displayed none of the intensity she had when waking, making her look peaceful. She was yet lithe, and small. Jim must have received his stature from his father. But the unique coloured-hair, the twist of the lips—they were definitely gifts from his mother.

Jim looked so much like his mother; Spock couldn’t fathom what had possessed her to practically disown him as a child. He knew these things still plagued Jim, and he wished he could do something to help his _t’hy’la_. He knew much of what had occurred in Jims’ childhood, but not everything. He was confident that Jim retained some of the more gruesome details for Spock’s own comfort. And because he thought Spock would turn from him in disgust if he were to know the truth. How could Jim expect otherwise; he who had been turned from all his life? How could Spock explain?

He was a half-Vulcan. They had been taught to speak with equations and logic, with language only a rudimentary method of communication with lesser species. He was not talented in the area, and only fluent in his own language. He could speak; he knew the technicalities by heart, but the poetry of Standard, and the beauty was lost to him. And in that loss, he could not describe to Jim what he meant to Spock, accurately. He could not sum up the feeling of entirety equated to the presence of Jim.

How could he say what his heart knew in a giant feeling, how could he dissect and express that he loved Jim for who he was, not what had happened to him, and that Jim today was the sum of his experiences and Spock loved him, but did not necessarily love the experiences themselves? How could he possibly make Jim understand?

He couldn’t possibly. He could only show Jim through mind-melds, and even that he was hesitant to do. He loved Jim, and knew Jim was nothing like what his reputation touted, but still. Jim had never had a long-term relationship before. He had told Spock countless times that he loved him, but Spock had never told him just how much the feeling was reciprocated. Would the intensity and depth of Spocks’ need scare Jim away? He didn’t know. Jim made him so unsure of the world around him, new and inexperienced. He didn’t know if he could survive, were Jim to shy away from Spock.

But one day he would have to. And he would. One day.

 

***~*~***

_She was in her bedroom, in their house in Riverside again. She was looking out of the window and Jim was there, and he was waving goodbye, smiling an empty smile. But this was not the Jim she had seen on video-feeds; it was a nine-year old Jim with old eyes, so old, as if he had seen things no child should have ever seen._

_The scene morphed flawlessly into another, without her even noticing. They were standing face to face in the kitchen, yelling at each other. No, she was yelling at him. He was still the nine-year old, standing there, watching her with baleful blue eyes, lonely and sad. She found herself screaming at him,_ I hate you!

 _And then out of the blue, she was watching with Jims’ eyes, watching herself mouthing the words spoken in anger which rang of truth. Everything rang true with dream-logic, and for once she could_ feel _how Jim would have felt even though she had always known what he_ should _have felt. Abandonment, rejection, anger, loneliness, sorrow with the intensity none but a child can feel, because he cannot rationalize and explain away emotion and words the way an adult can._

 _She_ was _Jim, and she was living his life in fast-forward, a blur of years and pain. She was meeting people who knew him as his fathers’ son, but no one who knew him as Jim. It defined him, shaped him like the outside of a mould, leaving a George-shaped-hole in the fabric of his life; he would be everything George was not. Or maybe, they were overlapping like circles in a Venn diagram._

 _And in the background she could hear Sams’ voice as he cold-bloodedly told Jim the reason_ ma _hated him, the reason he was a_ monster _was because he took away_ pa _. And he wanted pa back, ‘cuz pa was better than Jim, and didn’t make fusses, and didn’t attract attention like Jim._

_And with a feeling of dread she found herself whipped by an imaginary dream-force to another memory where she herself said the same words to her then-best-friend, ignoring that Sam and her friends’ son stood there, listening. She had always known children heard and repeated everything said by their parents. It made sense now, why Jims’ classmates stayed away from him, and why his teacher defended him from her, having heard what the children said about him._

_So much, so fast, inside of her, ripping her open. Sheer_ exhaustion _and loneliness and_ what would happen if I didn’t exist _thoughts._

A few days ago she would have thought that Jim probably hadn’t felt this much; he was only a kid, for gods’ sake! He wouldn’t have thought so much about it!

But he would have. Really. He had always been brighter than most, even than his elder brother who was brighter than she had been when she was his age. Brighter than that kid who’d got into the Universal Young Genius’ Camp when he was eleven; Winona had turned it down on Jim’s behalf. He would have felt it deeply, and she couldn’t imagine how he would have handled it—how could he have survived childhood with inner turmoil that she couldn’t survive for twenty minutes, then she realised she was awake. Her eyes felt wet, so she wiped them dry with the back of her hand. It was just a nightmare. She had to focus.

She had to fix it.

 

***~*~***

 

Spock felt sure he would wake up if Winona did. So he allowed himself to drift, doing the opposite of meditation; letting his mind flow to any and every thought that passed, eventually leading to the source of his concern. It was logical, in a counter-intuitive manner.

His mind coasted, touching on things from the repairs on the _Enterprise_ to the romance between Nyota and the Doctor, to Admiral Pike’s health, to the Klingon Invasion in the Delta-X quadrant. Then suddenly and unexpectedly, his mother.

His mother, and how she used to hold him close to her to share body warmth when he was cold, despite the fact that he had a higher body-temperature than her. And it was effective, he remembered the course of warmth through his extremities, mingled with childish comfort and satisfaction… never to be felt again…

And with a pang of sorrow, he realised that Jim had _never_ felt it. Almost instantly, Spock knew this was what his mind had been obsessing over; Jim had never felt motherly love like Spock had. Allowing for basic cultural differences, how could it be that a man such as Jim had come from a background of little-to-no familial affection, and that he had grown to be a man of such great and intimate passions? It defied logic.

But then again, that was nothing new for Jim Kirk, who aimed to constantly defy expectation and the force of gravity by spreading his wings and soaring far above everyone else. And he generally succeeded. What Jim wanted, he got. And it made sense, to a degree. Having been through a life full of hardships was bound to be character-defining, and Jims’ character was defined in all the classical ways, and all the unorthodox ways as well.

For one, he was open-minded. And it showed. The thing that had initially drawn Spock to him (apart from the fact that he cheated on the Kobayashi Maru test, which was something that was un _heard_ of before Jim Kirk) was his treatment of his crew, after the Narada Incident.

He treated all crew-members equally, whether they were his friends or enemies or anything in between. He had noted any discriminatory behavior amongst the crew themselves and the culprits, and had later taken them aside to speak to them. Even after they became _t’hy’la_ , Jim refused to disclose the matters discussed, and for that Spock respected him.

After these discussions the incriminated persons either apologized and showed respect, or were transferred to another ship. The only reasoning Jim gave was that he had to be able to trust each and every member on the ship, along with everyone else. He would tolerate no weak links, at least not the weak links of the mind.

It was a stand that no other Captain had taken before, deemed wasteful of human resources and unfeasible with it, but Jim insisted that neither the crew members of the ship nor the member in question would be happy unless something was done about the situation. They would be surrounded by people they didn’t like, and the crew would be unable to place their whole-hearted trust in the member, for the fear that he might not acknowledge truths from non-humans. It was only too easy to exchange the person for a crew member from an only-human ship, which were easy enough to find. After all, which sane being did not wish to work on the _Enterprise_?

He had only come to understand the motivation behind this behaviour after a discussion with his elder self, and had led to nothing but a magnification of respect for Jim.

He was thinking about how a childhood surrounded by prejudice had developed Jim to be so unprejudiced and open-minded, because logically it did not follow. But before he could continue on the new tangent, he felt Winona awaken.

He opened his eyes before she did, and as a result she thought he had been awake all along.

 

***~*~***

When she woke up the light in the room felt dimmer. The taste of the true-nightmare was fresh on her lips, tasting faintly like bile and anger. She suspected it was late afternoon, or evening, and yet Jim had not returned. She hoped he would return. She had nothing important or urgent to say, but she just needed to see him. She didn’t know what she’d say to him. But it’d come when she saw him. And the very thought of seeing Jim and the following absolution eased the tension of the dream, and it was almost okay. 

Except for the fact that the Vulcan was still sitting there, face calm and unmoving like a stone. He freaked her out.

“You can go do your stuff, you know? I don’t need you to sit there.” Her tone was slightly condescending, as if she meant he wasn’t doing anything interesting anyway.

He didn’t take the bait. He knew he wasn’t doing anything interesting. He was there to keep an eye on Winona. “Of course not,” he said graciously, ever the son of a diplomat, “I will remain here with you should you require something.” He nodded gravely and noted the slight narrowing of her eyes and the twist of her lips.

He changed his mind; Jim was far more beautiful than this hateful woman. He had been unwilling to admit it prior to this, but now it was clear. He didn’t like Winona, and didn’t trust her.

“Is there anything here I can eat? I’m hungry.” She said, shortly.

“Of course, what would you like?”

“A ham sandwich? Anything, really.” Her voice was sweeter as she realised Spock would serve her. Sweet and venomous. She knew he was vegetarian. But she wouldn’t know that Jim too, was vegetarian. Jim had begun following the lifestyle because Spock found the smell of meat on his lips distasteful, without even asking, as a present to Spock. Spock had been blown over, but that was a different story. Both Jim and Spock were vegetarian, meaning that there _was_ no meat in the house.

He couldn’t possibly tell her that Jim had done that for him, so he lied, one of the few times he had done so in his life. “Will a replicated sandwich be acceptable? We do not have fresh supplies in the dorm.”

She sighed, as if it was a great sacrifice. “Yes, it will.”

And even then the replicator did its job too well; the smell of different types of meat in the sandwich vaguely nauseated him, even though he was used to them and the reaction they provoked. He passed the sandwich to her, and she began to consume it slowly, and Jim spoke in his mind.

_Spock, listen, love, I’m just coming home and telling her the truth._

_Are you absolutely confident this is how you wish to inform her? Perhaps it would be better if—_

_Better if_ nothing _, Spock. Screw this all to hell, if she can’t accept me for who I am, then she can go away. She hasn’t given me anything since I was a child—her being mad and absent will be nothing new._ Jim was clearly agitated, upset about something.

 _What happened, t’hy’la?_ And Jim knew exactly what Spock meant.

_Nothing Spock. Nyota suggested it herself but I said no. I can’t believe I’m hiding from the woman who didn’t-raise me! I don’t give a damn what she wants, don’t even care if she likes me or not. It’s not like I need her approval!_

Spock recognised the bitter tinge in Jims’ voice. _Jim, take it from someone who knows. You will regret that you never told her you loved her._

Jim paused. _I never loved her._ And Spock could tell that it was the first time Jim had, himself, acknowledged that. _I love you_ , _Spock. I never loved her. She never loved me. She wants something from me, that’s all._

 _If you are sure, Jim, I am beside you forever._ Spock sensed gratefulness through the bond. _I shall see you in a short time?_

 _Yep. Love you._ And the link went silent.

Spock looked up at Winona, who looked to have said something and looked unsure as to why he had not responded. “Forgive me, did you say something? I was speaking to my bond-mate.”


	8. Chapter 8

“Your Bond-mate? As in, you’re married?” She seemed startled at the new bit of news, as if she had never considered it before.

“Yes, I am.” He agreed, but he would give no further information until prompted of Jim arrived. He didn’t exactly understand why she even cared.

“Don’t Vulcans get bonded when they’re seven or something?” Her face displayed confusion, and Spock wanted to know why.

“That is accurate,” Spock said, not sure where the conversation was going, and determined to not show it.

“Huh. Lucky that your bond-mate survived, isn’t it? Wouldn’t you call it an amazing co-incidence?” And Spock almost knew where she was leading the conversation and what she was implying. He could not believe that she would imply something like that about a survivor of Vulcan, could not believe that she would be so insensitive.

“My bond-mate is not Vulcan. We met during the Narada incident,” and he kept his voice as cool as possible, “and fell in love. The rituals were secondary.” He was not lying. He was simply avoiding the complete truth. Lying by omission was most certainly not lying. He momentarily wondered where _that_ had come from, because a few years back he wouldn’t even have _allowed_ himself to think of lying, or cheating. Just went to show— _that I’m awesome, right?_ Jim interrupted.

Spock rolled his eyes. Mentally. Not at Winona because that would have been incredibly illogical, but at Jim. Jim projected excitement and nervousness, and Spock realised that to Jim this was as dangerous as any mission the _Enterprise_ had to go on, and wondered what Jims’ childhood would have been like if a meeting with his mother caused adrenaline production instead of a soothing effect.

She couldn’t understand it. She didn’t really give a damn about the half-blood and what he did, but this defied her understanding of him, and she always like to know where she could place a person. Spock was different because he reacted differently than other people of his race. That caused her logic to be inapplicable to him, and that made her uneasy.

“Is she part of the ‘fleet?” she asked, genuinely curious. The more she discovered about him the better, because then she could categorize him and better plan her next move.

“He is—” and the door clicked open before Winona could process that Spock had said ‘he’, not ‘she’.

To Spock, when the door cracked open and Jims’ golden hair came in, the entire room lit up with the feelings Jim caused. He stepped in, grinning quietly with the corner of his lips and the sparkle in his eyes. “Mom?!” he cried, and did his best to sound surprised. The twitch of his mouth betrayed the anger and fear in Jim, and Spock felt a shiver run down his spine. _What was this unnatural thing that could make Jim Kirk fear?_ The quiet emptiness of his eyes and the tension in the set of his shoulders were only apparent to Spock.

When he had finally accepted the command of Jim Kirk and had sworn loyalty to him in the manner of Starfleet, he had vowed to himself that he would do whatever he could to wipe the elusive haunting sadness from this beautiful (lying) mans’ eyes permanently (because even though the man was illogical and infuriating and had utterly no regard for self-preservation, he was a walking-talking anomaly and he was broken and beautiful and Spock felt kinship). And because he was a Vulcan he kept his vow (because breaking it would be illogical) and he had not seen it in Jims’ eyes for four and a half years, and seeing it again was almost physically painful.

But as far as Bones and Nyota were concerned, it was damn good acting. He really sounded like he had just strolled in not expecting her presence. It didn’t sound like he’d been avoiding her for the better part of a day and had considered escaping her notice altogether. Spock was somewhat impressed.

“Jim,” she said, suddenly quiet as if her voice had failed her. “Jim,” she repeated, cracking and rough, but the emotion was there, raw and visceral.

“Ma.” It wasn’t an exclamation, it didn’t indicate shock or surprise, because clearly Jim had been expecting her. But Spock could feel… he could feel something, he wasn’t quite able to define, and suddenly he felt like he was intruding on something intensely personal and he wanted to back off and walk away and get as far as possible because it had _never_ been like this with his mother.

How could there be so much intense _fear_ between two people? Especially if they were meant to share an unbreakable bond? And he realised that Jims’ mind was echoing his sentiment and he felt immensely relived that Jim was there in his mind, and that he was there in Jims’, because no matter what happened they were supporting each other.

On Jims’ part, it was hard to be in the same room as Winona Kirk, a woman who had, intentionally or not, made his entire childhood a nightmare.

It was also a shock to see her again. She didn’t look changed. She still had the same icy beauty and composure that Jim had hated her for, the same confidence that she was right no matter what the rest of the world said, and be damned with them.

He was, honestly, the last person who would say that confidence was unnecessary or anything; it was just that her confidence bordered or arrogance and downright disrespect for any alternate points of view, and he had hated her for that. He has hated her for trying to make him that way when he was a child, for trying to teach him that eating made you fat and ugly and teaching him that gays were unnatural and unworthy of respect and that people had no use except to further your own wants and desires.

 _“How could you kiss that worthless slut in public? You’re of greater_ consequence _than she is. And I know what you did with that boy, James. Never do that again because you are disgracing yourself and your family and your father who died to save you.”_

He supposed she had been, in her own way, trying to teach her son how to survive in the world, but he hated her for not being able to accept that he was different from her, and for telling him that he was worth _less_ because he wasn’t like her.

_“Jimmy, how many times have I told you? Don’t let things like ‘friendship’ get in the way of doing the right thing! I can’t believe you were stupid enough to let yourself get caught, but taking the blame for Leigh and yourself was incredibly dumb. You’re responsible for your own future, Jim, don’t throw it away. No one needs friends. Friends abandon you when it suits them. Look where your father got.”_

He shook himself out of it. It was inevitable that he remember so many things from his childhood that he had suppressed; it was obvious Winona was reliving the past as well. But apart from that he didn’t know how to proceed. He could hug her, but it wouldn’t be right. Neither of them would really want to touch the other, right now. It would just be… wrong. There was no other explanation for it. He couldn’t shake her hand either; it would be weird.

But what could he do? He stepped forward at the same time she did, but there was still a good two feet between them, representative of the massive gaping void they’d inched around for their entire lives. He could spend eons analyzing what exactly had gone wrong and still the void would not be soothed.

She gave an awkward smile and crossed the room, placing her hands on his shoulders and holding him. It was—it seemed like the most appropriate thing to do. Spock noticed Jims’ muscles were stiff and he held himself rigid like a wooden board, and wanted to take him away from the woman who caused him such worry.

“It’s good to see you, Jim,” she said quietly.

Even her voice brought about memories of his childhood; unpleasant ones. He remembered her crying on his birthday, spending hours in her bedroom with bottles of whiskey and vodka, and then not coming out for days. He remembered Sam baking cupcakes for him in secret, hiding all festivities from Winona. He remembered her stinging slap. _How dare you celebrate your birthday when your father died on the day? How dare you celebrate the day my life was ruined?_

He remembered her telling Sam that he was precious and special and that she loved him. But he had never heard Winona direct the words at him. Not once.

His breathing was labored and her eyes were wet with unshed tears, and no one else in the room knew how to respond because what could they do?

And suddenly the connection snapped and they didn’t meet each others’ eyes, and Winona looked around, for the first time noticing Bones and Nyota. And the tension was there but it was less oppressive and Nyota felt like she could breathe again.

It was like the clash of titans, Bones thought. He could imagine how their personalities had clashed in the past, vast and unyielding and iron-strong and utterly alien to one-another. Jim Kirk had a strong personality, even abrasive, but apparently so did Winona Kirk. And he could only imagine the fireworks.

Spock took a step towards Jim and it was smooth and he didn’t hesitate and Jim immediately felt stronger for Spocks’ presence. And with that one step life returned to the room and it felt like shadows of the past had been banished, for now at least. And Winona turned to scrutinize Nyota.

“You must be Jims’ girlfriend.” There was a pause as Winona extended a hand out to Nyota. “My name is Winona. I’m Jim's mom.” Nyota shot a look at Jim, who looked like he didn’t know how to respond, and Bones, who looked like he had only just come back to the world, and Spock whose face was clear and emotionless but whose eyes glittered and watched her. She knew Spock was fiercely possessive of Jim, but so was Jim and… So, she’d just… And so she took the situation into her own control.

“My name is Nyota. It’s… nice to meet you.” Nyota extended her hand and Winona grasped it, but didn’t shake her hand, instead flipping it over and fixing her gaze on the plain gold band that adorned the dark skin of Nyota’s ring finger. She glanced quickly at Jim, whose face was suddenly full of joy for Bones and Nyota, then at Bones who had stiffened, and Spock who looked as emotionless as ever.

“You’re getting married, Jim? And you didn’t have the courtesy to call me? I know there’s stuff in our past but it’s water under the bridge and—”

“No, ma. It’s not water under the goddamned bridge. It’s still there, and it’s not going to go away if you keep behaving this way.” She looked taken aback, as if she had never expected him to call her on her bullshit, and then annoyed that he was. “It’s not about courtesy. It never was. It was just none of your business.”

“Jim Kirk, do not forget who I am,” she snapped. Her voice was stern and angry as she forgot the tender emotion she had felt for him, not ten minutes prior. “Do not forget who you are and do not forget what you owe our family.” And Bones had never thought that anyone could radiate pure _rage_ like Jim did, just then. He could have sworn the very air around Jim rippled.

“I owe you _nothing_ ,” he spat the word, as if it was filthy on his tongue. “I owe you nothing, and I owe our family nothing. Do not forget who _you_ are, Winona Kirk, and where you are.”

She almost sneered at him. “If you’re so concerned about where I am, and what I’m saying, let’s go somewhere a little more private, shall we?”

Bones wondered how it got so bad, so fast. He didn’t even know what was going on anymore. One moment it looked like everyone was going to break down with emotions and the next it’s an all out war. He wondered why Jim and Winona didn’t seem more unsettled (like him, Nyota and Spock), and wondered if Jims’ entire childhood had been like this, angry and violent and unstable, swinging from sorrow to fury without notice. It can’t have been good for the kid.

“I’m not concerned about them. Anything you have to say to me, they can hear. You are in _my_ home, on _my_ turf. We,” he said, gesturing between them, “are not on the same side, _mother_ ,” and again the word was filthy and angry from Jim’s lips. “You are here by my grace, and by that of many others’, and do not dare to presume it is easily given. I owe you _nothing_ , and that’s all there is to it. Do not expect anything from me.”

This was Captain James Kirk speaking, steel and iron-will and golden brilliance in human form, not Jim Kirk. This was the sum of a hundred hopes and a hundred hopes again, speaking through one voice. No childhood memory would hinder him because no childhood memory had any right to him. He was not one person, and he knew it.

She shivered. “Fine. Whatever. But it was wrong to embarrass me in front of your friends.”

“Like I’ve said, Winona. These are not my friends. They have more right to me than you do. They’re my family.” She winced as the brutal honesty in his voice got through.

“Fine. Fine, you win, Jim. Is that what you wanted? Submission from a harmless old woman?” Her words were slow to come, the pause in between lengthy; it was uncommon for Winona Kirk to accept defeat.

“It was necessary, and you’re far from harmless,” and now Jim Kirk was speaking to her, tired from confrontation, and sad. He just wanted to go to sleep in the crook of Spocks’ arm.

“Either way,” and Bones was once again startled by ease of transition between anger and peace, however temporary it was, “It’s nice to meet you all. Sorry for…” she faltered. “Sorry for all that,” she gestured vaguely. Jim rolled his eyes, recognizing it as a technique to garner sympathy; he was used to this. She was good at this, manipulating people. But Bones and Nyota did not look fooled, and Spock was silent and unreadable, still. His mind was silent. Jim felt a knot of worry in his stomach, tugging away.

“Nyota, come. Let me talk to you. For all your flaws, you _are_ a comely woman. You just need a little help, and I’m willing to provide that. I’m just sorry that your mother didn’t see fit to point out these things before, love. Don’t take it as criticism, I just want the best for you and Jim.”

Bones bristled and Jim seemed roused again, tensed on the balls of his feet, shoulders set. The insult to Nyota even seemed to catch Spocks’ attention. He watched like a hawk. But Nyota didn’t need their help.

“Ma’am—”

“Call me Winona, love.”

“Winona, don’t worry. Whatever we need to talk about, we can talk about here. What flaws did you mean?”

“Come dear, surely you know!” Winona looked innocently surprised, but while Bones looked slightly mollified that the insult might have been accidental, Jim remained tense, and in keeping with him, Spock continued watching. Bones caught on, quick. “Your skin is really a bit too dark. I mean, I know it’s fashionable now-a-days to have inter-racial and inter-species marriages, but really love, you shouldn’t colour you skin so much.”

“Winona,” Nyota cut through, voice sharp. “I don’t colour my skin. I’m of African descent.”

Winona gaped, and then turned to stare at Jim. Then after a moment of silence, “I thought I taught you better.” Nyota was so shocked, she remained, open-mouthed and silent. Bones was growing redder by the second, and any moment he’d blow. She hoped he’d keep his cool. This they’d have to handle with brains, she knew. But her voice was so condescending and ashamed that it got to Spock because it was no way to speak to his Jim

“Prejudice against race and religion are illogical to the greatest degree, Mrs. Kirk, a fact you should be aware of. It is frowned upon in human society to express such prejudice openly, and this too, you should be aware of. By expressing yourself as such you have disclosed yourself to be a narrow-minded individual, unless of course, you intended to insult Nyota and hence insult Jim’s choice.”

Winona, clearly not expecting such a rebuttal, gasped. Bones grinned behind a hand and Jim just looked at Spock, conveying gratitude.

Spock touched his mind gently, and Jim asked, _are you okay, love?_

_I am, Jim. I am only concerned for you and the treatment you have suffered at your mothers’ hands._

_Yeah well…_

_It will be revenged._

_Love, it doesn’t matter anymore. You’re a balm to all my wounds, Spock. Didn’t you know?_

_As are you, t’hy’la._

“Jim,” Winona asked, suddenly, “won’t you defend me against such a verbal attack? Especially from your subordinate?”

“Ma, for the last and final time, you were asking for it. It was inexplicably rude of you to say that to Nyota, and you know it. You’re trying to undermine me and Nyota and insult her, for whatever twisted reason, and I can’t be bothered. And he’s a lot more experienced than I am. He’s not my insubordinate; he’s my equal.”

“Jim, how many times have I told you? Never say that in front of the people you’re talking about! It gives them ideas!”

Jim almost groaned. He could have slammed his head against a wall and it would have felt better than dealing with this. _This_ was why he hated dealing with his mother.

He was almost relieved when the alarm bells rang, summoning all personnel to the assembly hall, and all command pairs to Admiral Faelnirev’s office. He exchanged a quick glance with Bones and Nyota who stood together, then spoke briskly. “We have to go. You can stay here or you can come to the assembly. Do what you will.”

He glanced at Spock, who nodded and they walked out of the door, followed shortly by Bones and Nyota, perfectly in sync and in step.

Winona watched, with a feeling in her gut telling her something. She just wasn’t sure what it was. But for now she’d have to start getting involved in politics again. She might as well attend the assembly.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, I’m taking liberties. I’m assuming that Starfleet is the official peace-keeping military force of the Federation, but it operates as an independent body under the pay of the Federation. But because if they were only paid by the Federation it would be equivalent to a government job as a civil servant, they also have external funding (ie. investors), because they need to keep themselves in good shape. If any other firm presents its’ ability to do the ‘fleet’s work, they’ll be hired instead. Because the Federation was formed by Vulcan and Earth, the ‘fleet had HQ on Vulcan and Earth, and for obvious reasons, there’s only one left.

Spock and Jim walked in-perfect-step towards Admiral Faelnirev’s office in silence. Even to a passer-by who didn’t know them well, it would have looked like they were very close, which they were. Even their arm-swings, though different in magnitude and style, were in-sync. Together, Jim thought, they made the _perfect_ pair, be it in casual life, or as a command team. They literally _completed_ each other, and he wondered why his mother couldn’t, or wouldn’t, see that. It would make life so much easier if she hadn’t come. But her arrival, though unexpected, was probably inevitable. She was attracted to attention like a fly to honey, and the comparison was entirely apt.

Right now, even though he hadn’t exerted himself much, he _really_ wanted to go to sleep, preferably with Spock. But even then, if Winona barged in, in the middle of the night, it could make things really uncomfortable. Dealing with his mother made him tired. And hungry, judging by the way his stomach rumbled.

His communicator buzzed and he quickly scrolled through a message from someone in the R&D department, telling him, and all other command pairs to pass their personal communicators to the tech department for considerable augmentation, in consideration of their upcoming mission.

He was surprised and reasonably sure this message would make more sense after they’d been briefed, but for now he passed it to Spock wordlessly. It was illegal to share communiqués between colleagues, especially if one of the colleagues had not received the message, but he couldn’t care less. Spock would find out anyway. But then his surprise began magnifying. He rechecked the message; the sender was someone he’d never heard of before.

The R&D department took in people like employees were going out of fashion, so he wasn’t surprised that he didn’t know the sender. But normally, the only people who sent messages to the field-agents were the high-ups, who targeted Captains and Commanders and allowed information to disseminate as it would. The high-ups were people who had been there for an awful long time, and who would stay there until the day they died (which would co-incide with the day they left; ‘fleet intelligence was a little over-zealous—they would never take the chance that a disgruntled employee ‘accidentally’ let slip some confidential information—they would take the measures needed, never mind that almost everyone disapproved)

If one of the high-ups was fired, or died, he’d have heard of it. Maybe he was being paranoid or something, but something didn’t feel right.

And it was an additional oddity that the command pairs were being briefed apart from the rest of the crews. What could they possibly want?

Spock listened quietly to his thought process, and commented. “Perhaps you are right, Jim. A deviation from norm is far from expected, especially from the R&D department. And if it was necessary, surely they would have included an explanation for their lapse in standard protocol.”

He didn’t want to hand in his comm. unit. He didn’t think he’d be able to survive one day without it. It had _everything_ on it—all his personal details, important _classified_ information, _everything_. The ‘fleet had gone so far as to retina-code _and_ DNA-code their comm. units for privacy. If _he_ were up to something, the first thing he would target was the communications system.

Spock nodded, and an ensign who was hurrying by stared before shrugging and walking away. Jim and Spock thought nothing of it—they were used to it.

They walked past the halls in which everyone else was assembling, and it looked normal, but Jims’ spider-senses (name courtesy of Bones) were tingling (again; Bones) and with every second that passed he grew more agitated.

There really was no reason he should be so stressed, except for the fact that his instincts were telling him something. He’d learned, in a life full of peril, to listen to his instincts. They’d saved him and many other people before. Spock agreed. It would be best if he raised this point to the captains before they surrendered their comms. He quickly messaged all his fellow captains and received their acknowledgements. If there were any consequences to be dealt with, he’d do it, but for now it was better to be safe than sorry.

They reached Admiral Faelnirev’s office and knocked on the door. They were summoned inside by a husky female voice, who told them to let themselves in. Which they did, only to see a woman dressed in a bath-robe sitting behind the desk.

Admiral Faelnirev was an exceptional admiral, having completed two of the most successful five-year runs in history. The admiralty had decided to promote her, and she had almost said no, but it was probably the first and last time they’d ask a human woman to join their ranks, so, as a representative of women world-wide, she eventually accepted and tied herself down to the desk (hating every second of it). She was known for doing things against the grain. She was also a beautiful woman, having aged with grace and dignity.

Jim was still staring, unable to process why she’d be dressed in a bathrobe. Spock politely looked away.

She grinned, completely transforming her stern face into an approachable and friendly one, frown-lines replaced almost totally by smile-lines and crows’ feet. “Come on, you two. Haven’t you ever seen a woman before? And you, Jim Kirk, with all your famed charm and wit? You can’t expect me to believe that this is anything new, right, Captain?”

Jim blushed, and she laughed. “Apparently the admirals have forgotten that I’m not a man and sent you all here. I was taking a shower!” which explained her dripping hair and the bath-robe.

“So,” she asked, combing her hair, while they waited for the others to arrive. “How’s your secret relationship coming along?” and both Jim and Spock turned to stare at her, Jim slightly open-mouthed, Spock’s face completely blank. They hadn’t told anyone but their close friends, especially not anyone in the admiralty who might strenuously disapprove of their relationship. Jim couldn’t imagine how she found out.

The door creaked open and she winked and turned away.

_She knows._

_So it appears._

_How?_

_I confess, I am at a loss to explain her knowledge. She does not, however, appear to disapprove._

_Yeah. She winked. She’s joking around with us. I think we gave ourselves away. You know people have been guessing at this for a while now. She only had to see our reactions to know there is truth to the rumour._

_Very wise, t’hy’la. Perhaps I’m influencing you._

Jim rolled his eyes, but grinned. Spock had a devilish sense of humor when it came down to it, expressed mainly through his eyes, so no one else saw it. But he was glad he was the only one who saw it, like Spock only shared that with him.

Admiral Faelnirev was chatting briskly with the next command team that had walked in, Captain Walker and Commander Ishera, of the U.S.S. _Endeavor_ , the _Enterprise_ s’ sister ship, and second in their fleet.

Walker nodded at both of them, while Ishera wriggled his antennae in greeting. Both Spock and Jim nodded simultaneously, and Faelnirev chuckled. Walker turned to look at Faelnirev, and gave Jim a look that clearly spoke volumes about what he thought of Faelnirev’s sanity, or lack-there-of. But Jim and Spock knew better. Well, Jim, at least, knew why she giggled, and passed it on to Spock. Who shook his head at the illogic of it, making Jim grin. 

Within the next three minutes, the room was packed. Not many people commented on the Admiral’s attire, except for Admiral Pike who walked in last, and said, “People are gonna start getting ideas about this, Maggie. A group of high-flying men in a room with their older, undressed, female supervisor? I’m seeing headlines!”

She grinned. “Nice to see you too, Chris.” He touched his hat in response. He’d been nothing short of outspoken in his defense of Faelnirev’s command style, and she appreciated that. For now, Jim guessed, he was there to witness.

But then it was down to business. “Okay guys and gals, we have a problem. Well, clearly, but you know. Now, the story that’s being fed to the sheep out there, is that we’re receiving a distress call from Jeirda V in sector six, which is true, but it’s being dealt with as we speak. The dick who held up the ambassadors to the neighbouring planets forgot that all ambassadors carry charge stunners inbuilt to their clothes. There will be consequences, but we’ll burn that bridge when it comes to it. But the real problem, here on Earth, is that we’re being hacked.” She paused to let it sink in.

“The ‘fleet’s got the best security system in the world and in the better part of the quadrant! How could we have been hacked?” Walker asked, almost to himself. A top graduate of the computing academy in London, he’d played a part in setting up the revolutionary EM shields that protected them from both real and virtual attack. They were almost impossible to beat, sending out electromagnetic waves that repelled any external impulse as well as charged particles. It was controlled from the inside, so a hack would mean that someone had found a loophole, or it was an inside job.

“We don’t know. But we’re following the protocol for these kinds of things. Complete and absolute shutdown. I don’t care. Everything—off. I’m sure all of you received a communiqué earlier, after the bell rang, ordering you to surrender your comm. units, followed shortly by one from Captain Kirk asking you to desist. While we disapprove of Captain Kirk going around us,” she caught his eyes teasingly, “we commend his initiative. We trust that no one surrendered their units. We believe that was their plan—to literally _take_ the information we offered them.”

There was a moment of literally pin-drop silence as they processed this. The fact that the admiralty was shutting down technology within the campus was a sign that this was already serious. It was a pretty drastic move. It was even more worrying to think that they would have unsuspectingly handed over their information to the enemy without a second thought.

As always, Spock saw beyond the problem in front of them. “Have we been able to trace the hacks?”

“We have been yet unable to trace the message to its’ origin.” Faelnirev’s tone was grave; she was worried.

“Then, with your approval, Lieutenant Montgomery Scott and myself will assist the efforts in increasing the efficiency of out defenses.”

She smiled. “Excellent suggestion, Spock. Is there anyone else who can offer technological insight into this sort of stuff? Except you, Walker, and Kirk. I know you two know your way around technology, but I need you in charge of your crews. Anyone?”

A voice from the back of the room offered his Vulcan science officer, if he had no objections. “Call him and ask. The science officers would have been directed to the tech labs by now anyway. Tell him to report to Hall Seventeen—we’ve set up an impromptu command centre in there.”

“Impromptu? Why? What’s wrong with the main command centre?” It was Walker, having caught the key word.

She looked at them. “It’s been fried.”

The room rippled in tangible shock. “Clarify the colloquialism, Admiral.” It was Spock.

_It’s gone, Spock. Destroyed._

“Fried, Spock. Totaled, demolished, annihilated, ruined, destroyed in an electrical surge.” Spock nodded, acknowledging both inputs.

“Do you suspect it was foul play or coincidence?” Ishera asked, speaking for the first time, in his clipped, high-pitched voice.

Faelnirev opened her mouth then closed it. Jim was surprised. She was not known for censoring herself. “We are not at liberty to say, Commander Ishera. As for now, we have no suspicions, and we are not, I repeat, _not_ to take any action against _anyone_ except defensive measures. Got it?”

A quiet, “yessir,” resounded through the room.

“Admiral, what about the people out there? What’s the story?” Jim asked, watching her response as carefully as he listened.

“Well. The plan is, they don’t get involved unless this thing goes bad. We don’t need wide-spread panic right now. It would cripple us, the way investors would withdraw their funds. We know, _you_ know, the ‘fleet is _the_ biggest organisation, _anywhere_. And we have our HQ on Earth. It’s our only HQ. If word gets out that we’re off kilter, just watch. It’ll be havoc on the streets. And the Federation, ugh. There’ll be hell to pay in the form of reports and paychecks, mark my words.” It was a sign of how serious the situation was that no one laughed.

“Right now we’re just informing them about the attack on Jierda V, and about the casualties and other details. We needed an excuse to get you all in here. Now listen. There’s no way for us to contact you once you turn off your communicators. Even the computer systems in your residential apartments will be shut down, so that no one can spy on you, if this _is_ an inside job.”

“So, all of you will have to report here twice a day, hell or high water. I expect regular reports on sheep-morale as well as any suspicious activities during this period. Spock, until further notice, you’re our link with the geeks. I want reports from you too, every day, about the progress you’re making. And I know each one of you hates writing reports, but just remember—I have to _read_ them. You’re dismissed.”

The room emptied quickly, and Jim and Spock turned to walk back to their place. There was nothing they could do except follow orders, for now.

 

***~*~***

_At the Assembly_  

Admiral Archer was heading the assembly, and he looked… grumpy. Well, grumpier than usual, according to Bones. And it took one to know one.

It might have had something to do with the fact that the mans’ shirt was buttoned up wrong, and his fly was half undone. And he was suddenly-bald, which meant he normally wore a toupee, which was just plain weird. Nyota grinned when she saw him; her expression was mirrored in all the other crews faces. It _was_ a ridiculous picture.

They waited for people to stream in for another five minutes before he started talking. Bones couldn’t help but think of the last time he’d been here, watching Jim Kirk getting court-martialed by Spock, his now lover. Which was still creepy, but okay; to each his own, and all that.

“Cadets and Officers of Starfleet, you are assembled here today because we received a distress call from Jierda V, a half-hour ago.” The now-senior officers stiffened, including Bones. It was terrifyingly similar to the opening statement all those years ago, before the Narada Incident. And everyone remembered how _that_ had turned out.

“A human male, by the name of Eiholin attacked a group of ambassadors of six planets in the vicinity, and held them up in a room refusing to let them go until they met his demands. The poor fool was shocked by a fast Jierdan ambassador and his inbuilt charger, and died of a cardiac arrest on the spot, but the Klingons are claiming foul play on the part of the Federation men who were supposed to have stopped this kind of thing from happening.”

“While it is a clearly ridiculous claim, the ambassador of Tessik Prime is apparently flattered by the Klingons’ attention, and is considering an alliance. For those of you who do not doze off in your stellar cartography lectures, you would know that Tessik Prime is a major source of dilithium crystals, without which starships cannot function.”

Archers’ drone was monotonous, and yet Bones felt something was off. Two people, Scotty and a Vulcan from some other ship, left half way through the speech after checking their communicators, so he assumed they’d been summoned to help out.

“At the moment we are concerned about both retribution from Tessik Prime, and attack by the Klingons and their supporters in an attempt to win over Tessik’s dilithium supplies. We will be deploying ships in a show of force, but we will retain a large number of people here, to maintain order and not rouse panic.”

The briefing ended within half an hour (of sheer, mind-numbing boredom), with the orders for four of the ships in dock out of eight to suit up and head out, Christmas or not. The _Enterprise_ was obviously one of them, because god forbid a single diplomatic incident occur without the Fleet sending out their flagship to babysit everyone.

The other three were intended to stick around sneaky-like, _just_ in case the Klingons decided to attack. Sometimes McCoy wished they didn’t have to deal with all this damned politics. If some jerk did something wrong which _everyone_ knew was wrong, the aforementioned jerk should be punished, diplomatic immunity be damned!

He felt a soft hand on his shoulder; Nyota. She was most likely reading his mind and laughing at him. His wife had never seen his political incorrectness as funny. She’d never seen anything he did as funny.

Nyota was probably the sweetest thing to have happened to him since his daughter, and he wasn’t sure what he’d do without her. He knew what she’d say about the whole institution of marriage and all, but he wanted to make an honest woman of her. It wasn’t like he didn’t worry himself to death enough about those two idiots on the bridge during missions; one more, much better looking worry-ee would scarcely make a difference.

“What’re you thinking, Len?”

He almost shrugged, before realizing she’d probably noticed something too. “Dunno. Feels… fishy.”

“Like they’re hiding something, right? I mean, the Klingons do this shit on a regular basis. Why are they so nervous about it?” She twisted a tendril of dark hair around a finger in an absentminded gesture he loved.

Then he remembered Jim’s mother. “Shit.”

“She’s alone,” Nyota replied, still in sync with his thoughts.

“Shall we go face her off?”

“Lead the way, Len.” She schooled her face into her sternest one, and Bones knew she wasn’t mad about the racist remarks. Rather, she was mad about the way Winona had spoken to her son, and the way they’d realized she’d raised him. It was quietly horrifying. Jim was the most open-minded person they knew, in more ways than one, and one with the biggest heart. They hated that she didn’t see how much he was loved because of who he was. It made her _mad_ , and Bones didn’t argue when Nyota was mad.

Bones sent a message to Jim, saying that they were going to use their spare key, but got no reply…

 

***~*~***

“Captain Kirk, remain behind for a moment.” Spock raised an eyebrow, meeting Jim’s eyes. 

“Commander Spock, you may leave.” Spock left, giving Jim a significant look, which Jim returned. He could read it like Spock had said it out loud.

_Be careful. Watch what you say. They’re friends but they’re still admiralty. I love you. I’ll see you soon._

With Spock not there to watch his back, Jim felt like a student in front of his furious principal, even though Admiral Faelnirev looked pretty okay. Pike looked tense, and his eyebrows furrowed more than usual.

He stood at parade rest.

“Relax kid. It’s a quiet mission.”

He blinked. “Isn’t it a really bad idea to give a flagship a quiet mission?” Quiet missions were primary tasks disguised as secondary tasks. Like they were told to do something at all costs, while pretending to do something else. There were ships trained in this kind of shit, but no one knew which ones were conducting what mission, because they were pretty good at keeping it _quiet_.

Pike replied this time. “Yes, Jim. It is. But we don’t have a choice. Not with our system in the state it is now.”

“It’s worse than you told us?” Jim was feeling even more unsettled than he had a while back. Layers beneath layers, and he wasn’t sure where he stood anymore.

Faelnirev and Pike exchanged glances, making Jim even more worried. Whatever it was, was really bad. “Mohinder was attacked on his ship in the Beta Quadrant. He didn’t make it.”

Jim’s jaw dropped. Mohinder had been an excellent captain on the _U.S.S. Titanic_ , a man to Jim’s heart, who cared less about senseless rules and more about the people who served under his command. He had been Jim’s friend, despite the fact that Mohinder was a good twelve years older than him. They’d gone to him for real-world advice on how to deal with the admiralty and other shit. He had been a good man.

“The Beta Quadrant is nowhere near the,” Jim glances at his PADD to remind himself, “the Tessik system. The _Titanic_ has nothing to do with the dilithium situation. They were just patrolling dead space, right?”

Pike sighed. “Yes. They were patrolling the dead space near a star nebula known as the Roerich cluster, home to planets which had not yet achieved warp.”

“Civilized?” Jim asked, cautiously. Warning bells were ringing in his head, and Spock was waiting two buildings away to make sure he was okay.

“Yes.” Faelnirev’s face was still, waiting for his reaction. He didn’t disappoint.

“Then what the _hell_ were they doing?” Jim exploded. “Prime Directive states that—”

“We know what the Prime Directive states. Do not interfere in non-warp civilizations. Blah blah blah. But the ‘Fleet works in a different way, Jim. Have you ever heard of Section 31?” Pike was almost whispering, as if worried he’d be overheard.

Jim stilled, dropping the semi-permeable barrier between his and Spock’s minds. He shook his head. Somewhere on the other side of the campus, Spock sat down on a bench, and focused.

“Section 31, Jim, is the ‘Fleet’s dirty little secret. It’s the reason all this is happening.”


End file.
